Times of change
by ffrackles
Summary: A number of Katniss & Peeta one-shots, all taking place between the last chapter of Mockingjay and the epilouge. Might be slightly OOC at times. Rated M for possible language and some angst. Read and review, and why not send some requests?
1. Bring in the new

**Disclaimer; I do not own The Hunger Games or any of it's characters. I simply have a wild imagination, and writing it out is fun. This story will contain of several one-shots from Katniss POV, taking place between the last chapter of Mockingjay, and the epilouge. But feel free to send me some requests, from any characters POV. **

**I hope you will enjoy this story, and that you will tell me what you think :)**

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><p>As soon as I realized that the sound came from me, I covered my mouth with my hand. It didn't help. The sound was muffled, but it was there. I was sure to have woken up at lease someone. If not human, than at least Buttercup.<p>

I had been home for two months, but the nightmares still plagued me. The nightmares of the Games, the Quarter Quell, the War. Bogg's death. Finnick's death. Prim's death. I had no one now. Not Prim, not Gale, not my Mother. Not even the boy with the bread was here for me anymore. At least not completely. Not the way he used to be.

Sure, Haymitch checked on me every other day, and Greasy Sae stopped by every day. Said she thought I was still suicidal. Yes, sometimes I wanted to die. Sometimes I wanted to join my little sister and my Father wherever they were. Every one I loved was either dead, or they didn't want to see me. Or they didn't remember that they loved me back.

But if I had survived this long, then I could survive for at least another day.

At least that's what I told myself every time I woke up. Every time I felt like there was no point in living.

When I had stopped screaming, I noticed the faint orange color in my bedroom. The sun was rising, and I knew that this was the perfect time to go out hunting. But I hadn't been hunting since I came back. Except that one time, but that didn't exactly classify as hunting. Holding a bow and arrow just felt wrong. I was also scared that the forest would remind me too much of Gale and Prim. But I knew that I had to get back on my feet at some point, so I got out of bed and found some clothes that would fit for the weather. When my shoes were laced properly, I slowly walked over to the closet.

It took almost five minutes of trying to convince myself and taking deep breaths before I opened it and threw on my father's leather jacket. It smelled just like it always had and it brought tears to my eyes. Quickly wiping them away, hating myself for crying, I grabbed my game bag, filled with food, and headed out the door with my bow and arrow in my hands. I refused to turn around and look at Peeta's house. Or even Haymitch's. Or the empty Victory houses that would never be filled. I thought about how I was just as alone as Haymitch now. How he had always been in that house alone. But there was a time when I hadn't been. Peeta neither. There was a time where our houses were filled with smiles and laughter. They weren't anymore. Just painful memories.

Not even caring to listen to the quiet buzz, I crept under the electric fence. It would forever be turned off. There was no need to keep it on. The animals never came close enough to the fence, and we were allowed to go out here nowadays. It wasn't forbidden area. I wasn't even sure why someone had bothered to keep it up.

District 12 was slowly being rebuilt, more and more people coming home. I guess that some people never would come home – they had moved forever – but District 12 was crowded compared to what it was when I came back.

I didn't let myself think as I walked over what used to be the Meadow. What was now a grave yard. I couldn't think. Not yet. Not now. I had to be quiet, and if I thought I would surely cry. And if I cried, I wouldn't be able to hunt anything down. And I didn't want to go home without nothing. I had to have something with me.

But as I reached the place where Gale and I always met up, my legs gave in and I caved to the ground. Not caring anymore, knowing no one would find me out here, I started to cry. I hadn't cried like this in weeks, and even then it was right before I fell asleep. But now I cried, and there was no point in holding it back.

Even long after the tears ended, I could feel the salt on my lips and I knew I had to get moving. I was thirsty. And hungry. But my legs wouldn't move, and I ended up sitting on the ground for an extra hour before I finally found my feet again and started to walk. I put up a couple of snares that Finnick had thought me once on the way, and then climbed up into a tree to wait. It wasn't for long. Barely an hour later I saw a deer, and I ignored the light shake my hands gave when I pulled the bow out and let the arrow fly through the air. It was a perfect hit, but wasn't it always? I tossed my small bag, which was now empty, to the ground and reached the deer fairly quickly. That's when I realized I shouldn't have taken it down. It was too big for me to carry for a longer distance, and I was at least an hour and a half of walking away from the fence. But I figured that if I could just take it to Rooba, then she could fix the rest. I would give her the whole thing actually, except for a part that I would give to Haymitch. I owed him at least that much.

I reached District 12 some time after lunch, and my arms and back was aching from the weight of the deer. There had been some rabbits in the snares, but I figured I'd go get them later. The deer was more than I could carry at the moment. I didn't want to loose the rabbits – they would always help someone – but if they were gone by the time I got back, well, then they were.

"I figured you'd be hunting when I didn't find you in the house," Rooba said as she saw me, and I dropped the deer on the floor, trying to catch my breath. I ignored her words, and told her why I was there.

"You can take the hole thing, just give me a piece."

I watched her as she lifted the deer up and walked into a back room, only to come back about ten minutes later.

"This enough for you?"

It was actually more than enough, but I figured I could just give some to Peeta as well. I didn't need anything. I had enough food to last a life time, with what Greasy Sae brought me every day. I should probably give her some of the deer as well.

I nodded, said thank you and grabbed the meat from her. I immediately headed toward the Victors Village and found myself knocking on Haymitch's door moments later. I figured that I'd have to knock a few more times, and then walk inside, finding him sleeping somewhere. It was long after lunch, and he was most likely drunk already.

So when the door opened I was surprised to see Peeta. I hadn't seen him for real for about a week, and since we both came back to District 12, we hadn't spoken. Casually yes, but nothing about emotions. I needed time to be alone, and I wanted to give him time as well. He lost his entire family in the War. After that, and everything he'd been through, he deserved some space.

But I wanted more than anything to just talk to him. To hold him. To know what he felt about me.

"Katniss," he said as he saw me, and I shook away the warm feeling that rushed through me at the sound of his voice. When I saw that small, genuine smile on his lips. It was hard not knowing what he felt. I knew he remembered his feelings – that his memory was back completely – but that didn't mean that he still loved me. That was also why I had left him alone. I wanted him to figure things out. If he felt something real – or if it was because of memories.

"This is for you," I gave him a small smile when I reached half of the meat to him, and when he reached for it our hands gently brushed against each other. For half a second, I actually felt safe again.

"Thank you," he said, opening the door completely. "He's in the kitchen."

"Drunk?" I asked and he nodded as he closed the door behind me.

"Not more than usual at this hour," he told me and I nodded. I had figured so much. I walked before him into the kitchen, finding Haymitch half asleep against the counter.

"You're welcome," I said sourly as I tossed the meat right in front of his face, and he looked up at me. Glancing between my face and the meat, he spoke after a short moment.

"Good to see you back on your feet, sweetheart."

"I was never not on my feet," I argued, still annoyed by that stupid nickname he had given me. But I knew he was right. And that deep down, he really did mean well.

"I've seen you stare at that fence more times than I can count, and today is the first day you actually walked behind it. That's getting back on your feet."

"Apparently you can't count very long," I muttered under my breath, and I heard Peeta laugh. I didn't mean for anyone to hear it, but I liked the sound of his laughter. I hadn't heard it in such a long time.

"What was that?" Haymitch asked and I shook my head.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

I stayed for about an hour, told them both about the idea I had for the book. Sure, it might just be for the three of us, but I wanted to do something in their honor. Everyone who fought with us. Every victim of the Games. I never wanted them to be forgotten.

Peeta didn't even hesitate when he said he would help me – he could paint if there was no pictures – but Haymitch wasn't sure. Muttered something that he'd need a lot of alcohol in him to do that. And for the first time, I understood for real why he always had the bottle with him. It was his way of forgetting everyone who had died at his hands. But no matter how much I wanted to forget who had died at my hands, I never wanted to forget about Finnick, or Boggs, or Prim. It was conflicting, feeling like that.

After Haymitch passed out, Peeta promised he'd take care of it as he walked me to the door.

"And he's right Katniss. About you getting back on your feet."

"How would you know?" I asked, my voice more bitter than I wanted it to be. But how did he know? I was sure that he didn't notice me the way he did before everything started. Before, when he was just a baker's son who had a crush on a girl from the Seam. Before, when we both had a family to come home to. Before, when everything was so simple.

Nothing could ever be like before.

"I do notice things about you," he answered me, and something about his answered ticked me off. Like I was a walking bomb or something. And maybe I was.

"You've _noticed_? Have you noticed how much I miss my mother, and my sister? How much I miss everything and everyone? How many times a day I tell myself that if I can only make it to tomorrow, things are gonna get better? Have you noticed how guilty I feel, and how I haven't slept in _months_? Have you noticed that I miss you; having your arms around me, having you fight off my bad dreams, have you to make me feel safe? Having you to hold on to? Have you noticed that I love you?"

I shut myself up then, not wanting to say anything more. I had already said too much. I refused to look at him, this boy that I loved. Because I had realized that now. He gave me something no one else could. He made me feel safe. But most of all he was like that dandelion in the spring I found so many years ago. He was the boy with the bread. He was hope to me. Hope that some day things would get better. He was a promise that life would go on.

I understood now, what Gale meant when he told Peeta that I would choose who I couldn't survive without. Because you can't survive without hope. When hope leaves your body, you're as good as dead. But Peeta represented hope to me. And I can't survive without him.

I turned around quickly, not wanting to see Peeta's reaction to my words. Not wanting him to open his mouth, and break my heart by telling me that he didn't love me back. By telling me that he didn't need me the way I needed him. I couldn't stand hearing that. I don't know what I'd do if I actually did.

So I ran into the woods again, staying there until the moon and the stars replaced the bright, yellow sun. Walking home slowly with the help of the moon, I held the rabbits in my hands and tried to make myself invisible. Tried to go back a few hours, not telling Peeta how I felt about him. Things would just be easier if he didn't know. Things would be easier if they went back to how they were before.

While waiting for the moon and the stars, I had cleaned the meat, so when I came home I put them some place where they would still be fresh in the morning. I'd probably take them to Greasy Sae. As a thank you.

I hadn't eaten since lunch, but I found that I wasn't hungry. Just tired. So after carefully placing my father's leather jacket back in the closet, I crawled down in my bed without bothering to take off the rest of my clothes.

That night I dreamt, like I always did. But not about the games, or the war, or even about Prim's scream. No, this dream was about all the people who had died. Every single one that I had known. They weren't chasing me, or hating me. They were... forgiving. They were just there, around me. I could hear Rue's four note whistle, Prim's laugh. I saw Finnick's spontaneous grin, my father's face. I could hear Cinna, telling me that he was right to have been betting on me.

I woke up crying that morning, but there was no screaming. Just simple tears. Not tears because I was scared, or guilty. I cried because it felt like maybe, just maybe, I could finally let go. Maybe, they didn't hate me for being a part of their deaths. Maybe they really could forgive me.

"Bad dream?" I heard Peeta's voice then, and I turned my head around. I hadn't noticed him where he was sitting at the end of my mattress, until he actually spoke. Sitting up slowly, I shook my head.

"No, not this time."

I avoided his eyes, and none of us said anything for a moment.

"What are you doing here?" For a second I wondered how he even got in, but then I realized that I wasn't sure if I had locked the doors or not. My head had been a confused place last night.

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday."

I heard myself take a deep breath, planning on it to be my last if he told me that he never wanted to see me again. If he told me he didn't feel the same way.

"I don't... remember everything, Katniss. I still get these flashes, and sometimes it takes me a while to figure out if they're shiny or not. But it's getting easier to guess. Especially around you. Because I know you. Or at least I'd like to think that I do. And what you said about not sleeping, not feeling safe... I feel that too. When you touched me yesterday, for a second I felt like I used to. Safe. And not just because I knew that I used to feel that way around you, but because maybe you _do_ make me feel like that. Still. But I can't be sure, not until my head is all cleared out. And I don't know how long that will take. It might take weeks, months, a year. Who knows?" his voice was becoming more and more desperate, and I wanted to scoop closer and hold him. But I didn't.

When he didn't continue, I ignored the slight pain in my chest, and opened up for the first time. Because Peeta used to be someone who understood me. We had shared something, something that no one could ever understand. Haymitch, yes. But I didn't feel like opening up to him. I felt like talking to Peeta. And telling him about my feelings yesterday felt like a door had opened. A door to where I could be safe. Where my words would be safe. Where someone would listen to what I had to say.

So I talked. I let go of everything. Every thought that had crossed my mind since the first games; since Prim was chosen and I volunteered. I talked about my father, how it felt after loosing him. How it felt like to have to support a family when you're eleven. I spoke about how much those loaves of bread really did help me, and Prim, and my mother. So much. As I talked, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, and the words flowed from my mouth without me ever being able to stop them. I talked so fast at times I wasn't sure if Peeta could even catch up. But he listened. And he moved closer from time to time. Eventually he was sitting right beside me, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body right next to mine. That's when I started to talk about him. About my feelings for him. About our relationship, about how I started the games not trusting him. How I felt about him confessing his love for me in public like that. About how Gale had always been in the back of my mind, influencing me. I told him about the Quarter Quell. How I never had any intentions of walking out of there alive, but that I had every intention of keeping him alive. He had to get back to his family. I couldn't live in a world where Peeta didn't exist. I just couldn't.

When I told him that, he moved even closer to me and slowly his arm came around my shoulders. I had no idea what it meant for him, but for me it meant feeling safe. And feeling safe meant warmth. It meant that I could finally let go of the sob that was stuck in my throat.

I cried for a long time, and Peeta just held me. He held me close to him, and I kept talking. I talked about losing Cinna, about losing Prim, Finnick, Boogs. Eventually I came back to him, telling him how I felt when I saw him on that TV. Ceasar and him. How that's when I found out he was alive. How it ruined me when I found out that me being the Mockingjay only resulted in his torture. I told him how guilty I felt about that. How he would never have been hijacked if it wasn't for me. If it wasn't for how much I cared about him. I told him that he represented hope to me. I told him the moment I realized I loved him. I was quiet then, almost waiting for him to say something. I must have been talking for hours, but Peeta had said nothing. Not now either. He just sat there, still holding me. And that gave me the courage to tell him the one secret thought that I had kept from myself for so long.

"But really, I think I've loved you since the bread."

Peeta stayed with me all day. For a long time we just sat there, him holding me, me crying against his shoulder. But eventually we moved. We found Greasy Sae in the kitchen, making me something to eat. When she saw Peeta, she quickly made him something as well.

I had told Peeta why Greasy Sae was there, so he didn't look surprised. He must have seen her every day, coming in and out four times a day. Feeding me. Making sure I was okay.

He didn't question it.

After we had eaten, Peeta and I went back to our positions. I was so tired after letting everything go, and when we found ourselves back on the bed, we weren't sitting up. We were under the covers, but he still held me just as tightly. And in his arms around me, with the sound of his beating heart comforting me, I was able to sleep a whole night without dreaming.

This continued for months. At night, Peeta and I held each other, fighting off each others dream. Comforting each other from them. And during the days, Peeta and I worked on the book. We started with Prim. He draw her picture, and I wrote everything I could remember about her. We moved on to Cinna, Finnick, Boggs, Rue, Thresh, Peeta's family. Everyone we could think of. Eventually Haymitch joined us. He told us about the tributes before us, the tributes of his games. He told us more than we had ever expected to hear from him. And Peeta kept on painting. Haymitch kept on talking. So did I. Peeta too.

Eventually the additions in the book became smaller and smaller, but they still meant just as much. When we received the picture of Finnick and Annie's newborn son, we didn't hesitate to put it in there.

When not working on the book, I would hunt. Peeta would bake. With some help, he was working on rebuilding the bakery. Said he was a baker's son, and all of that. We kept on playing the real or not real game. It was mostly just small things when working on the books. Questions like, "Is this the right color of Finnick's eyes?" I would tell him, "Right." Sometimes he would look puzzled over something, and with the help of me and Haymitch, he would know if it was right or not right. The questions became fewer and fewer, and eventually he stopped asking them completely. It felt like the old Peeta was coming back more and more to me, but I knew that he never would. We had all changed. Nothing would be the way they had been before. And sometimes, I felt like that was a good thing. Sometimes.

During our months working on the book, District 12 became more and more crowded. Hundreds of people moved back, along with new people from other districts. The mines were closed, but people were busy with rebuilding our home. With planting food, breaking ground for where the new factory's would take place. The new factory's where we would make medicine. District 12 was not what it used to be, and with people being so busy, none of us barely noticed when the Meadow turned green again. Not until it was what it used to be. From the outside looking in. Because not even the Meadow could ever be what it used to be. Now it's a graveyard. But maybe that's a good thing, too. The flowers growing above the bodies, the birds singing. Peeta would always be hope to me, but the Meadow growing into something beautiful was hope to others.

One night telling Peeta about my theory about the Meadow being hope to people, about him always being hope to me, something changed. He didn't just listen. That's what we always did. If I talked, he listened. If he talked, I listened. But not that night.

Just when the words about dandelions left my lips, I felt Peeta's hand gently brush the hair from my face, turning it to face him. Even in the dark, I could make out his bright blue eyes, and in them I could see something I hadn't seen in a long time. So even before he closed the distance between our lips, I knew what would come. I'm was still scared to hope though. But when his warm lips touched mine, I wanted more. I felt a hunger I hadn't feel since that night on the beach. That's when I realized how much I really do love him. How I will always love him.

When his lips left mine, it wasn't with much. I could still feel them brushing against mine as he talked.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

He knew the answer from months ago, but I'm more than willing to give it to him again. Tell him that I still love him. Always will.

"Real."

But I have to know too. I have to know if he loves me back. A part of me tells me he does. He wouldn't have kissed me otherwise. But I need to hear the words leave his lips.

"You love me back. Real or not real?"

And right before his lips touched mine again, he whispered "Real" and it felt like I was home.


	2. Burned suprises and birthday kisses

Walking down the stairs into the bakery, I found Peeta with his back against me. He must have heard me coming down the stairs, but he was concentrated on the cookies he was making at the moment. Even though he had been down here for the last six hours. I myself had just gotten back and cleaned up from a hunt.

After Peeta had finished rebuilding the bakery, and the apartment on top, he moved in. Just in time for Effie to move to District 12, actually. Peeta had offered her his old house, and she had taken it. Haymitch hated having her as a neighbor, but he was slowly getting used to it. She wasn't quite what she used to be, either. She was still cheerful and annoyingly optimistic at times, but after moving to District 12 she was a toned down version of herself. No wigs, no crazy clothes. She still had a little bit of make-up every day though. She said it was to make her feel at home.

I don't know exactly how it happened, but Peeta and I, we lived together now. After he moved out of the Victor's Village, he spent a lot of time in the bakery, trying to get it up and running. He really didn't have to though. Everyone knew who he was, and with the new transportation system, everyone all over Panem could get his cakes and cookies. I told him he worked too hard, but I also saw how much he liked it. So I let him.

But at the beginning, he was usually really tired at night, so we ended up at his place. After some time, I found myself walking there without even thinking about it after a hunt. I barely spent any time in my house at all. But still, none of us really thought of it as moving in until I told Haymitch I was going home, when I meant going to Peeta's place.

And home, it was nice. A home to me had always been some place I felt loved. Some place I felt safe. Some place I could be myself.

And this place, it had all of that. I had never liked the house in the Victor's Village. That had been nothing but a house to me. A house that I happened to live in. It's was too big. But this loft above the bakery, it was home. Peeta was home.

"I made some cheese buns for you," Peeta said without turning around, and I felt myself smiling. Taking one from the counter, I chewed on it as he continued to talk.

"Get anything good?"

"Nothing more than a couple of squirrels," I told him the truth. He turned around then, a small frown on his face.

"I didn't see you with anything," he said, more to himself than to me, as he placed the cookies in the oven.

"I dropped them off at Rooba's," I stated and saw him nod. He was just about to lean in for a kiss when we both heard the bell ring, indicating that someone was there to buy something.

Peeta let out a sigh, placed a kiss on my lips, and then I saw him brush his hands off on his pants as he walked out of the bakery and into the shop. As soon as he was out of my sight, I rummaged through the cabinets as quietly as I could, on hunter's feet. He wouldn't hear anything. Especially not with Haymitch screaming to him about having no alcohol, and how Effie annoyed him. Well, the train would get here tonight. He would have plenty then. I couldn't do anything about Effie though.

I finally found what I was looking for behind some bags of flour, folding it neatly and hiding it before Peeta could come into the kitchen with Haymitch following him.

"A little help?" he mouthed and I fought my laughter back.

"I'll see you at five for dinner," I told Peeta as I grabbed Haymitch and pulled him out the back door. Haymitch fought with me as long as he knew that Peeta could still see us, but as soon as we had rounded the corner I let him go and he grabbed my arm.

"Where's the squirrels?" he asked, his voice sober.

Haymitch seemed to love my squirrels just as much as Peeta's father once had, and it was easy to trade them for something I needed. A distraction.

"In my old house, relax," I told him as we started to walk toward the Victor's Village. Haymitch grumbled something I couldn't hear, and I ignored him.

"Why did you need that distraction anyway?"

"Because I can't hang around the bakery all day, waiting for a customer that might just stay for two seconds. I needed you to distract him for a longer time."

"Why?" he asked, wanting to know.

"Just because," I stated and he didn't ask any more questions. Thankfully. Actually, none of us spoke until I gave him those three squirrels and we said goodbye. Effie came out of her house just as I walked past it, and I tried to hurry. I had a pretty good idea for why the Capitol clothes were back on.

"Katniss, wait!" she called after me, and I had no other choice than to do just that. I let out a sigh just as she stopped next to me, and I started to walk again.

"What's with the clothes?" I asked and she looked at me with a shocked expression.

"Katniss, it's a big, _big_ day today. Peeta's birthday. Not anyone turns 20 every day."

"Oh but Effie, that's tomorrow," I told her smoothly and she looked at me with wide eyes.

"No, Katniss, I'm pretty sure it's today."

"Effie, it's tomorrow," I told her again, giving her an apologetic smile. She asked me again, and I told her yet again that she had the date wrong. So she left, saying that she had a big, big day to get ready for. I laughed to myself as I saw her walk away, shaking my head in amusement. I hadn't expected it to be that easy. I'm not a good actress after all, and not a good liar either. But she bought it, which was the important thing.

Peeta was in the shop when I came back, so I walked straight up the stairs to get ready. Taking out the folded piece of paper, I placed it on the counter in the kitchen and started to read.

This really couldn't be that hard, right? It's just a cake. Not that I had ever baked in my entire life, but it should be easy. I had watched Peeta do it countless of times, right? Not that he ever followed a recipe. That's also how I knew he wouldn't miss this one. He did everything by heart. He grew up baking and frosting, and he didn't need a piece of paper to tell him how to do it right.

I did though.

And it turned out to be a lot harder than I thought it would be.

I failed with my first two cakes, burning the first one, and the other one tasted horrible since it didn't have enough chocolate. So as I started with my third attempt, I made sure that the oven was on the right temperature, and that there would be enough chocolate.

I smiled to myself as I placed it in the oven, having a good feeling about it, and then I started with dinner. Both of which would be done at five, when Peeta would come up to eat. As the dinner was cooking, I decided to take a shower since I was covered in chocolate and cake. Putting on some nice clothes afterward, I braided my hair back just in time to hear Peeta come up the stairs.

"Katniss?" he called out, and I answered him from out bedroom. I heard his footsteps come to a stop though, long before he could have reached me. "What's burning?"

Running out of our bedroom at his words, I found myself in the kitchen within a few seconds. Peeta was already taking out the cake from the oven, and I looked at it with despair.

Burned. Again.

All I wanted was to bake him something nice. Was that too much to ask for, really?

"What is this?" he asked, turning to look at me with an amused smile.

"It's supposed to a chocolate cake," I told him and he nodded as he pressed his lips together not to smile. "Don't laugh."

"I'm not," he promised, and I shook my head as I glared at him. He _was_ laughing. He tried not to show it, but it still counted, because he was clearly laughing on the inside.

"So, what's it for?" he asked me then, glancing at the cake, placed on the counter. I walked up to the stove, thinking about not answering him, but I did anyway as I took prepared our food.

"It's your birthday, and I wanted to give you something nice. It's why I brought in Haymitch to distract you before. So I could steal a recipe from you."

I had my back against him, so I couldn't see his reaction. But when he hadn't said anything for almost half a minute, I thought about turning around. I needed a reaction. Good or bad.

That's when I felt his arms around my waist, pulling me to him. His chin rested on my shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss on my cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered in my ear, and he sounded really sincere.

"It's just a cake, and I ended up burning it," I said as I turned around in his embrace. His lips found mine as he shook his head, and I kissed him back.

"No one's ever baked me a cake for my birthday. Burned or not, I'm eating the whole thing."

"Are you serious?" I asked, and he knew what I meant. He grew up with cookies and cakes and bread surrounding him. His father was a baker. Of course he had a cake for his birthday.

"My father always managed to put away some newly baked cookies for our birthdays, but that was it. We could never really afford anything more, and ingredients for a cake is expensive. _Chocolate_ is expensive."

"You never got a cake," I murmured sadly. Even I got a cake when I was a kid. When my father was still alive. My parents always saved money for our birthdays, so that they could get us something. A cake from the bakery. "Now I really wish I could bake."

He laughed, pressing another kiss against my lips. This one lasted longer, and when he let go it was several moments later.

"I burned your bread; you burned my cake. Let's call it even, shall we?" he smiled and I laughed with him.

"Actually, I burned two," I told him honestly and he laughed as we took a seat at the table. He took the cake with him along with a fork, and we both ignored the warm food that was waiting for us. I sat down in his lap as he dug the fork into the cake, and watched him as he ate it.

"That can't taste good," I murmured and he took another bite.

"The best birthday cake I've ever eaten," he smiled as he chewed, leaning in for another kiss. I could taste the burned chocolate on his lips, and I let out a sigh as our lips broke apart. He was obviously going to be stubborn about it, so I could be stubborn with him. So I stole the fork from him and took a bite of my own. And, a part from the burned chocolate, it wasn't half bad.

"You could teach me how to bake, and next year the cake won't be burned, " I said, leaning my forehead against his. Our noses were touching as he answered me.

"Only if you teach me how to sing."

I knew he only made that deal because he loved hearing me sing, and he wanted me to sing more, but I agreed with a kiss.

"Okay," I told him and he took another bite from the cake. In his pace, the thing would be finished soon. "Effie might be running around here tomorrow, screaming about how it's a big, _big_ day."

"Why's that?" he asked, his mouth full of cake, and I smiled.

"Because today, I wanted you all to myself."


	3. Promises of forever

**Thank you for all of your reviews :) Remember to hit me with some requests for one-shots, and I hope you will like this chapter.**

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><p>I couldn't find it in me to sit still. Some part of my body was always moving, no matter how hard I tried. My legs were bouncing, my hands were playing with my hair, or I kept biting on my lip.<p>

The train would soon roll into District 12, and it had been too long since I had been home.

A week ago I left for District Four, to go see my mother. I hadn't seen her in a long time, and no matter how hard it was for me to leave my home, a part of me wanted to see her. I had seen Annie and her son as well. Johanna too. She had moved to District Four to be close to Finnick, in her own way. Yes, she hated the ocean, but Finnick had loved it. So, she moved to what he had loved the most. She had actually moved into Annie's Victory House. She couldn't live there. Not without Finnick. So before the baby was born, she bought a house right on the beach. That way she could stay close to Finnick. At least that's what she told me.

Their son was only four, but he was a spitting image of his father. The same bronze hair, the same green eyes, the same love for the ocean. When I saw him playing on the beach, he even had his hands stacked with sugar cubes. It was almost eery how a like they were.

But I had been gone too long. A week had went by without me seeing Peeta's face. I hadn't heard his voice in two days. It's was too long, and I didn't like it. Didn't like being without him for this long. At all.

I was standing by the doors as they opened, and I hurried out of them with my head going in every which way. He had to be here somewhere. He knew I was coming with this train.

The first familiar face I saw belonged to Haymitch. He had been waiting for the train to come as well. With alcohol. Effie stood next to him, waiting for something from the capitol.

I didn't wait to see if they got what they wanted.

As soon as I saw the blonde locks, I was moving in the right direction. He saw me right before I dropped my bag to the ground, my body slamming into his. Losing his balance, he staggered a few steps back, but his arms wrapped tightly around me, pressing me closer to him.

He smelled like bread and cookies. And a little bit of paint. He smelled like he always did. He smelled like my Peeta.

"I love you," he whispered, and I started to cry against his shirt. Noticing after only half a second, he wrapped me even closer, placing a kiss on the top of my head before he asked what was wrong.

"He looks just like him," I muffled against Peeta's shoulder. "Noah, he's just like him. The same smile, the same hair, the same love for the ocean and sugar. And Annie, I don't know how she does it. I don't know how she lives by. I could never... If you... You can't leave me, never. Promise me, that you'll be here. No matter what."

I don't know why I felt like this. This strongly. I hadn't thought about loosing him for years. I couldn't afford that. I had him, and he had me. We loved each other. But seeing Annie, and little Noah... Annie never thought that she'd loose Finnick. But she did.

And I knew that the Games were over, and the War was over, and Peeta didn't exactly risk his life baking every day. Logically, I didn't have to worry about ever losing him. But I did. Of course I did.

Peeta didn't question me. Didn't ask why these thoughts were haunting me. Instead his hands moved to my face, pulling it from his chest so that he could look at me. His bright blue eyes stared right into mine as he answered me.

"Always."

And with that little word, he stilled all my worries. I relaxed against his body as his lips came down on mine, moving slowly for a moment before I let go.

"I love you too."

"What do you say about going home?" Peeta smiled, and I felt myself returning it through my tear filled eyes.

"Home."

I hadn't just missed Peeta while I had been gone. I had missed our bed, and I had missed the smell of bread in the morning. Even Buttercup and hearing Haymitch argue with Effie over the smallest things. I had missed all the things that belonged to home.

Peeta grabbed two bags of flour from the train, holding on to them with firm arms before he offered to take my bag. I refused, simply because I wouldn't be able to hold his hand if he took it.

Instead of opening up after lunch, Peeta left the bags in the kitchen, locked the backdoor behind us and followed me up the stairs to our apartment.

"I need a shower," I told him as Peeta wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing his lips against the side of my neck.

"You smell great," he murmured, and I felt his smile against my skin.

"I need a shower," I repeated, laughing as he groaned. "You can join me, you know."

"I would," he turned me around in his embrace, pursing his lips. "But I have a batch of cookies in the oven that needs frosting."

"What kind of cookies needs frosting?" I murmured, my hands pulling at his shirt, my lips pressing against his.

"Special cookies," he answered against my smiling lips, "_very_ special cookies."

"I'll let go of you if you let me taste them," I said, taking a hold of his shirt.

Peeta laughed before he pretended to think about it for a moment, "Deal."

Knowing that I would probably never get into the shower if I kissed him again, I backed away from him and let go of his hands before I turned away and found myself into the bathroom. Turning on the water in the shower, I didn't stay for longer than it took to clean myself up. I dried my hair as best as I could before finding some clothes, pulling on Peeta's shirt. I had nowhere to be today, and I knew that I would drive him crazy wearing his shirt; showing as much legs as I did.

Crouching, I found what I was looking for in my bag, and then walked as quietly as I could into the kitchen where Peeta was standing with his back against me. I watched him for a long time as he worked, concentrating on the colors that covered the cookies. I knew I would get a response out of him if I said something. He wasn't painting. When he was, he was in his own world, not noticing anything else than what his hands were doing.

"I got you something," I announced after a few moments of watching him, and he turned around after taking some frosting on his finger, licking it off. His eyes widened when he saw me, and I laughed at how quickly he tried to compose himself.

"What did you get for me?" he asked, reaching his hand out with a grin. I found myself shaking my head in amusement as I placed the package in his waiting hand. I was about to reach out for a cookie when he stopped me, leading me to a chair by the kitchen island.

"Not yet," he warned, standing between me and the cookies.

"Why not?" I asked him, giving him the eyes I knew he couldn't resist. A small pout as well. "I'm hungry."

"Because I'm not done with the frosting," he told me simply as he started to open his gift. "And those eyes won't work on me. Not today."

"They should work today, considering we haven't seen each other for a week."

"The legs would have worked," he stated, and I found myself crossing them to tease him. But he wasn't watching.

"Technically, it's not from me. Annie made if for you," I told him as he looked at the knotted bracelet. I had no idea that she was just as good with knots as Finnick had been, if not even better. "She made one for me too."

"It's beautiful," he murmured, more to himself than to me and I smiled. I would have to make sure that Annie knew, that he liked it just as much as I liked mine. "I don't understand how a person can make something like this. Out of _rope_."

"Isn't it a lot like your frosting, and your painting?" I wondered, and he looked up at me with a smile.

"Speaking of, I have to show you something," he told me as he tied the bracelet around his wrist. He left the kitchen quickly, but he had the time to return before I could steal one of the cookies. Or even get up from the chair. In his hand he held a painting. Without even having to take an extra look at it, I knew what it was. It was the meadow, long before it looked like it did now. Long before I even knew Peeta existed. I remembered the day all to clearly. It was one of my happiest memories. I was ten, and Dad had taken me out for a hunt. My first _real_ hunt. I had followed him a lot of times into the woods before that, but that day was the first time he let me take down my own game. It was just a rabbit, and no matter how easy they were to get down now, I didn't know that at the time. I managed on my first try, and I was so glad. So proud of myself. Thinking back of the memory, I could see my father's wide grin and the sun reaching his eyes. He was proud too.

I let my fingers trace over the two figures, one tall and one short, walking away from District 12. Into the woods. Into their second home.

"How..." I started, not finding my voice. But my Peeta understood.

"It was the first time I saw him take you outside the fence. I wanted to paint you something, paint him, and the first thing I thought about was this."

"He gave me my first bow on that day," I remembered, and looked up at Peeta. He was smiling, a sad tone to it, and I felt myself mirroring it. "Thank you."

I grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him down to me, pressing my lips against his hard as if emphasizing my words. He kissed me back for a moment before he leaned out and looked at me.

"I got you something else," he said after a second of hesitation, and he bit his lip. He almost looked nervous. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" I wondered, going through all the possibilities of what he could ever think of giving me.

"Close them, or I'll blindfold you," he smirked and I chuckled as I did what he told me to.

I could hear him moving around in the kitchen for a while as I kept my eyes closed, trying to figure out what he was doing. For a second it sounded like he was frosting again, but I shook that thought away. Why would he be frosting if he wanted to give me something?

I heard a weak sound coming from underneath me then, as something touched the counter I was sitting at.

"Open," he said, and automatically I turned my head toward where the last sound had been from. Opening my eyes, I heard Peeta take a deep breath and I exhaled myself.

Right in front of my eyes was a cookie. I couldn't tell what it's original color was as it held an orange frosting all over it. But that wasn't it. In green, capital letters, taking place at the center of the cookie, two words were written. Just seven letter, but such a big sentence. Question.

Because in that green frosting, Peeta had asked me to marry him.

All I could think about was that day in the woods again. About my father. How safe he made me feel. How warm, how loved. When he died, I never thought I'd have that again. But here I was, and Peeta, he was everything to me. He made me feel loved, and safe, and special. He made me feel good.

Trying to find my voice, I raised my glance and looked at him. He was clearly nervous. And me not talking didn't help.

"It doesn't have to mean marriage," he said in a rushed voice, holding out his hand. In it was a box. Most likely with a ring. "This ring, it doesn't have to mean that. I know you, Katniss. And I know that you may not want this, and I know that we haven't talked about it. At all. But I love you. I do, with everything that I am. And I'm okay if you don't want to get married. You don't even have to wear the ring if you accept it. I'm okay with this ring only being a promise to love you. Because it is. Forever. Always."

"Asking someone to marry them means just that," I whispered, trying to fight the tears that wanted to leak over. "And when you answer this kind of question with yes, or no, it means just that. But Peeta, I want that ring. I do. And not just as a promise of loving you forever, but because I want to marry you."

"So that's a yes?" he grinned, opening the box with his free hand. I was about to answer him when I saw the ring hidden inside it. Something round was placed right in the center of the ring, shining against the silver. It was my pearl. The one Peeta gave to me in the Quell. The one I held on to, when I couldn't hold on to him.

"It's a yes," I whispered, afraid of my voice breaking. I wanted that ring on my finger, forever. I wanted Peeta forever. Yes, I wanted to marry him. Of course I did.

I wasn't ready when his lips came down on mine, but I responded without thinking. Our lips moved hard and long against each other, and none of us wanted to let go. None of us wanted this moment to ever pass. It was perfect.

My hands tousled in his hair, his arms wrapping around my waist, pressing my body against his. He lifted me up from the chair, holding me in his arms as I wrapped my legs around his hips, locking behind his back. He started to move underneath me, his legs moving toward our bedroom, but I stopped him.

"My ring," I panted against his lips. "I want it."

I could feel his warm breath against my face as he chuckled, backing into the kitchen again. I let go of him reluctantly when he seated me on the counter, taking a step back. I didn't let go of his gaze as he took the ring from the box and placed it on my fourth finger on my left hand. It had a nice weight to it, and it felt like a perfect fit. Looking down on it, I saw that it looked just as wonderful as it felt.

But I didn't have the time to think about it anymore before his lips were on mine again, his arms lifting me, his legs carrying both of us into our bedroom.


	4. Tears and strangers

**Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews :) This chapter is a little darker than the others, and the next one will most likely be a one-shot of their wedding, if that's what you want. Also, send me some requests because I'm low on ideas at the moment. **

**I hope you will like it. Let me know what you think, okay? :)**

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><p>I glanced toward Peeta as I quietly pulled on my father's old jacket, and felt my mouth curve into a small, tired smile. His chest rose with every breath he took. He deserved the sleep. None of us had been getting much of it lately. Not with this date creeping up on us. It was like this every year, but this time it was worse. I couldn't sleep at all tonight, and I ignored the rain that fell down on me as soon as I stepped my foot outside the door. Somehow, it seemed appropriate that it was raining.<p>

Finding my way in the dark night, I sat down when I realized I really didn't know where I wanted to go. My legs were too tired to carry me, and I fell down to my knees. The ground was cold and wet, but I ignored it as best as I could.

With every hour that passed, the rain started to fall harder and harder. As the sun started to rise, it was clouded by darkness.

Yes, very appropriate for this day.

Glancing up toward the sky I thought about Peeta. Knowing he would soon wake up, I only wished that his sleep hadn't been interrupted by dreams. There had been so many dreams lately, for both of us.

He would most likely wonder where I was. He knew I wouldn't be out hunting. I wouldn't be able to get a clean shot in this rain. So could he come looking for me? Knowing what day it was, he probably would. He wouldn't want me to be alone.

But where was I? Looking around my surroundings, I could make out the woods not very far away from me. There was flowers around me. If today had been a clear day, the mockingjays would be singing.

I was at the Meadow.

It didn't really surprise me, and I couldn't find it in me to move. For once, it didn't bother me that I was sitting on a grave yard. Again, appropriate.

I don't know how much time passed before I jumped from the touch of a hand on my shoulder.

"It's just me," Peeta assured me as he sat down next to me, and I calmed myself down with a deep breath. I hadn't heard him coming. I was so used to the sound of his feet on the ground after all these years. I hadn't heard him now though. I guess anyone could have sneaked up on me in this rain.

Peeta didn't ask what I was doing here. He didn't question how long. He said nothing as he scooped me up into his lap and cradled me close to his chest.

I was the one to break the silence moments later.

"I just wanted to hold her," I said, my voice low. I was afraid that it might break. He held me closer as I felt his lips press against my temple.

"I know," he whispered, his hand taking mine. I had been grasping a primrose ever since I realized where I was. I didn't let it go, even though my hand was starting to hurt. I don't know if it was because I was so cold, or because I had been holding the flower so hard.

I started to cry then, my tears mixing with the rain. When I noticed Peeta's tears, I dropped the flower to the ground and wrapped both of my arms around his neck, burrowing my face against his shoulder. And then we cried together.

He had just as much reason as me to cry today. He didn't cry often, and I hated his tears more than I hated mine. Peeta was so strong, so kind, so gentle. Somehow, tears didn't belong on his beautiful face. They didn't go with the smile that so often was showed on his face.

But today marked five years. Five years since I killed Coin. Five years since Snow died. Five years since the war had been over. Five years since we lost everyone.

I mostly cried for Prim, just wanting to hold her one more time. Wanting to tell her how much I loved her. Still. Always. I knew that Peeta cried for his family. But our tears belonged to so many more. Madge, Rue, Finnick, Boggs, Cinna, Portia. My father, too. All the people we wanted at our wedding in just a few weeks. All the people that wouldn't be able to be there.

Eventually our tears dried, and Peeta carried me home. He filled a warm bath for us. Didn't want any of us to get any colder, he said. Didn't want us to get sick. I think mostly he just didn't want to let go of me. That was fine by me. I didn't want to let him go either. I wanted his arms around me forever.

We were just getting undressed as we heard a knock, and Peeta pulled his shirt back on. Kissing me on the forehead, he told me he would be right back.

I gave him a nod, not wanting to leave his side, and then I slid down into the warm water as he left the room.

Waiting patiently, he came back a few moments later. He had changed into dry clothes, so I knew he wouldn't be joining me.

"Who was it? Haymitch?" I asked and he placed a hand on my shoulder to keep me down as I tried to get up.

Haymitch always came over on this day, every year. Always a little drunker than usually. Effie would sometimes join him. It always ended with Haymitch passed out, and Effie complaning.

"Take your time, he can wait."

Another kiss on the forehead.

"You know where to find me if you need anything."

And then he left.

I stayed in the bath until the water started to get cold, wrapping myself in a towel before I sneaked into our bedroom. Our guest was most likely in the kitchen, and he wouldn't be able to see anything as it wasn't linked in any way to the bathroom. Or our bedroom. But sneaking felt better.

Putting on something that would keep me warm, I took a moment to look through Cinna's sketchbook. I needed more time to mourn, but Peeta and I always looked through our book on days like this. When it was rougher than normally. When we needed to remember the most. And I knew that we would look through the book together tonight.

So Cinna's sketches and his note was enough for now.

I would have to talk to Peeta about not wearing a traditional wedding dress. I wanted one of Cinna's designs, and I still had all of the dresses he had once made me. They were locked away in my old Victory House, and I sneaked away to look at them sometimes. When I missed him the most.

I braided my wet hair and walked barefoot into the kitchen where I found our guest sitting at the counter. But it wasn't Haymitch. Or even Effie.

It was someone I had not seen in a very long time.

"Hey, Catnip."

I stood in the doorway for a long moment, taking him in. This man that I had not seen in years. This man that I thought I would never see again. This man that used to be my best friend.

He looked older, but five years had passed. He wasn't a boy anymore. His hair was just as dark, his eyes just as grey. But he looked tired. The small smile on his lips was wary, unsure. He didn't know if he deserved to smile. If he should really be here at all.

"Hi," I finally managed to say and I moved to make some tea for us. None of us spoke until the mugs were in front of us. Gale stared at me with questioning eyes as I plopped a sugar cube in mine. He knew I usually drank mine clean. No sugar, no milk. He didn't know that it was my own way of remembering Finnick. And I found that the sugar added a nice taste to it.

"How did you find me?" I asked, and he hesitated when he answered me.

"When I didn't find you in your house, I found Rooba. She said you would be here. So what, you live here now? With him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"Good," he gave a small nod. More to himself, I think.

"What are you doing here, Gale?"

"I can't sleep. I haven't slept for real for five years. It's... I keep waking up from these nightmares. About her, about you. I keep thinking that what if I killed her? Not knowing, it's killing me. And yet if I knew that it was my weapon, then I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Killing her, breaking you..."

"Gale, you have to let it go."

He was close to tears, and I couldn't see him like this. No, Gale and I were not what we used to be. And no, I would never be able to come to terms with him ever again if I found out that it was his weapon that killed Prim. But we didn't know - we would never know - and he couldn't do this to himself. I wouldn't allow it.

"What, like you have?" he snapped, and I stared at him with wide eyes. I had seen Gale like this many times. But his anger was not directed toward me very often. Almost never.

"Peeta found me in the Meadow this morning. I just sat there in the rain, wishing to hold her one more time. One last time. I still wake up from dreams. Dreams that I will always have. Have I accepted that I'll never see my sister again? Yes. Have I moved on? Yes. Have I fully let it go? No. I will never fully be able to let it go. But you can't do this to yourself, Gale. You _can't_."

"But what if it was me, Katniss?"

His voice was so low I barely heard it. So broken.

"Don't be so tough on yourself," was all I said. I didn't know what to answer him. What I wanted to say wouldn't make him feel any better. It wouldn't make me feel any better. So I settled.

"I'm married," he changed the subject. "I... Her name's Alexandria. She's nice. We're having a baby soon. A daughter. I want to name her Prim, but it feels wrong. Not having an 'okay' from you. Yes, she was like a sister to me, but she _was_ your sister. And I know that it's probably not okay with you, and that's okay with me. Alex's thinking about a dozen other names. We can just pick one of those."

He was married. He was having a baby. Gale would be a great father. I knew that. He had always been fantastic with his siblings. With Prim. And if I could make him feel a little better by giving him the allowance to name his daughter after my sister, then of course he could.

"It's okay, Gale. Prim is a lovely name. You should name her that if you want to."

He looked at me, a smile growing on his lips. It was sad, but it was there.

"Thank you," he said, reaching for my hand.

"So you're in love," I stated, smiling. It was nice that he had moved on.

"I don't know about that, but I do love her. In a way. But it will always be you."

He still loved me. He wasn't in love with his wife, because he was in love with me. That was wrong. He had to let go of me just as much as he needed to let go of Prim.

"Do you remember telling Peeta that I would choose who I couldn't survive without? I can't survive without him, Gale. You, you gave me fire. But I already had that. Peeta, he's always given me something more. Something important. Hope. He'll always give me hope. And I will always love him. Always be _in_ love with him. There's no one else for me. And there shouldn't be anyone else than your wife for you. Let me go."

"If he's the only one for you, then why aren't you married?"

He didn't know. I thought he knew. Peeta and I were careful to tell Effie last because we knew she would somehow get it to the Capitol, to Ceasar. And then it was all over Panem.

We, the star-crossed lovers from District 12, was finally getting married.

Gale didn't know.

"We are," I whispered. "In three weeks."

"Oh," he answered. "I thought you never wanted to get married."

"I thought so too. I was wrong."

"So he's not forcing you or anything?"

"You should know Peeta enough to know that he would never do that."

"I don't really know him at all, do I?"

Maybe he was right. Before the Games started, Peeta was my secret. Him and the bread, it was mine. And then Peeta confessed his love for me, while Gale was in love with me. And the two never really interacted with each other until the War. And that wasn't Peeta. Not the Peeta that I had come to know. Gale saw him as a threat – someone to kill if things went wrong. We didn't know where we had him. But it was Peeta, and deep down I knew. He _had_ to be in there somewhere.

And he was.

He had told me a few years ago when he realized that he loved me because of me, and not because of his old feelings. His memories. It was when he stopped me from taking the Nightlock pill after I killed Coin. At the moment he only really just knew that he couldn't let me die. He had felt the urge to protect me. The way he felt before, in his memories. He told me that that's when he really started to come back to himself, but then he didn't see me for months. He didn't see me until he came back to District 12. He didn't really think of me that way until I confessed to him that I was in love with him.

And then it still took months because he was scared. Scared that one day he might get a fit, and hurt me. But as the months passed, and every night and day passed with us being close and nothing ever happening, he felt better about it. More confident that he wouldn't hurt me. And then he wasn't scared of loving me anymore.

"It's what_ I _want, Gale."

"Good."

Silence.

"So, how long have you two been...?"

"Four years, four months, and eighteen days."

"Counting, are we?"

I laughed without really wanting to.

I would never forget the day he told me he loved me back.

Gale didn't stay for long. Said he should go see his mother and the rest of his family. I followed him down the stairs, and hesitated for a short moment before leaning in and giving him a hug.

I even invited him to the wedding, but he said that maybe that wasn't the best idea.

Yeah, maybe not.

But he still used to be my best friend, and a small part of me wanted him there. Another small part still blamed him for Prim.

Watching him walk out into the rain, I closed the door behind him and turned to the left, to the door leading into the bakery. I knew Peeta would be there, and I needed to be close to him.

Closing the door to the bakery behind me, I let out a sigh.

Peeta was there alright, but he wasn't alone. Haymitch was already passed out over the counter, his dirty hands freakishly close to whatever Peeta had intended to bake.

Peeta tried his best to wake him up, and I watched him from where I stood.

"Cold water always works," I pointed out and Peeta looked at me, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't need him to be pissed, I just need him to get out of my cake."

I walked up to him, snaking my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest so that I could hear his steady heartbeat.

"You're still cold," I whispered, not liking it. I didn't want him to get sick. Especially not now when we were soon getting married.

"You're nice and warm," he stated and I chuckled before I let out a sigh and took a step back.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

"Real," he answered without hesitating and I nodded.

"You want to marry me because you're in love with me, and not because of any other reason. Real or not real?"

"Real." Again he said it without any hesitation, his eyes boring into mine. Peeta might be a good liar, but he wouldn't lie to me. Peeta loved me. I loved him. That's all I needed to know.

And he clearly wanted to know why I was asking this. He didn't know what Gale and I had talked about.

"Tell me the story, the one about when you fell in love with me."

"You've heard it before," he stated and I nodded. Yes, I had heard it. But I wanted to hear it again.

"Tell me."

Peeta led me to the counter right next to the oven, his hands on my hips as he lifted me up. His blue eyes stared straight into mine, his lips curving into a small smile.

"Which one?"

"I think you know which one."

And he told me all about that first time he heard me sing, and about how the birds stopped their songs to listen. He told me about the red dress and the two braids, and how he knew that he wanted to marry me. He told me that he chickened out every time he wanted to talk to me, that every time he thought I looked at him, he looked away because he thought I knew that he had been staring.

He knew I wanted to hear more, so he continued to tell me about the bread. Why he did it. How he never needed me to say 'thank you', because for that second that our eyes had met, he had known. He always kept an extra eye on me, making sure I was really okay. Checking if I needed some more bread, because he would do it again. Risk a beating, just to make sure I had something to eat.

"You're too good for me," I whispered and he shook his head. I was about to argue with him when Effie came running through the doors, screaming something about a big, _big_ day.

Yes, it was a big day. But she had a smile on her face. Today was not a day for smiles.

"What are you screaming about?" Haymitch woke up, his voice annoyed. "And what is _that_?"

"That," Peeta said, watching as Haymitch removed his hand from the cake Peeta had been planning on making. "was supposed to be a cake. You can have it."

"No thanks," he answered sourly, shaking his hand off before he wiped it against his pants. I turned to Effie then, watching her, as I jumped down from the counter to stand beside Peeta. What was she screaming about? Why was she smiling?

"Haven't you heard the news?" she asked. Almost shocked that we didn't know about something.

"There's no news on Sundays," I told her and for a second I thought she would actually roll her eyes at me.

"Well, not here," she started, like it was the most obvious thing. "But in the Capitol."

"What news?"

"The last prisoners taken by the Capitol has been found and freed," Effie grinned, looking at me as she answered Haymitch's question. From the tone of her voice, the smile on her face, I got this feeling. My heart started to race, and after a few seconds I realized that I felt hopeful.

It had been five years, but some prisoners had been found. And released. That meant that they were alive, right? I don't know how anyone could survive for that long, but someone clearly had. And from the sound of Effie's voice, it was more than just one. Maybe more than a few. I didn't know. All I could really think about was this one name that kept running through my head.

But it wasn't possible. He was said to be dead.

He _was_ dead.

"Katniss," Effie said and I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I didn't like it. "I talked to Plutarch myself right after he had spoken to Paylor. One of the men matches the description of Cinna."

_Cinna_.

He was alive.

Somewhere underneath the ringing in my ears, I could hear the phone ring.


	5. Vows and toastings

**So, this one is long but it was fun writing it. And I'm thinking about doing something new for the next chapter. I'm thinking about doing a chapter from Peeta's POV, and make it kinda angsty. Thinking about throwing in some details from his hijacking. **

**Leave me some thoughts, okay? :)**

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><p>"Are you nervous about tonight?" Octavia asked me, and I looked at her with wide eyes. It was the only question really being directed toward me in the last two hours.<p>

My old prep team had arrived yesterday, insisting that they'd get me ready for today. Said something about how I couldn't just braid my hair back, and wear no make-up at all. It was my _wedding_, as Flavius had told me with a stern look when they appeared on my doorsteps yesterday.

The last two hours had felt a lot like it had when they used to work on me. As they fixed my twenty nails, my skin, my eyebrows and my make-up, they had talked like they used to. It could be questions, or statements, about me, but they were never directed toward me. Just floating above my head, and they answered each other with grins and big hand movements. There had been several complaints about the way I looked already, but at the same time, they knew what they had to work with.

I never listened to any of them.

"Tonight?" I wondered, the question clearly written in my eyes. What did she mean about tonight? I was getting married in an hour. We weren't even close to sunset. The only thing that would be changed tonight was that I would be Katniss Mellark instead of Katniss Everdeen.

Okay, I was slightly nervous.

But probably not for the reason Octavia thought I was.

"It's your _wedding night."_

"Oh," I understood, pressing my lips together not to laugh. Did she really think that Peeta and I had never...? From the look on her face, and the faces of Flavius and Venia, yes, they all thought so. We had been together for almost five years. Sure, maybe it didn't happen at the same night we shared that kiss, but it did happen. Frequently.

I decided to play along, just for the sake of it. I didn't know how it worked in the Capitol. Maybe it was sinful to be intimate like that before marriage. Here, it was considered sinful to carry a baby outside of a marriage, but you could have sex all you wanted to.

"Uhm, yes," I nodded, looking at my prep team. They were all smiling, and I didn't like it. At the moment I didn't know if they were smiling because I was getting married, or because they thought I would loose my virginity tonight.

"Leave the girl alone; don't you have a groom to take care of?"

Flavius, Venia and Octavia all hurried out of the room, chatting about what they would do to Peeta. We had overheard them yesterday, discussing how they would have the time to finish both of us before the wedding, and Peeta came with the idea that they could work with me first, and then an hour on him. It was clear that he didn't like it – I didn't either – but they would argue.

Both of us also remembered Haymitch's warning words; there's was no reason to fight with the stylists. We figured that those words of advice still applied. Thankfully, our prep team had been told to make us look natural.

I looked at Cinna as he walked into the room, walking by my prep team on his way in. He held a big bag in his hands, and I knew that my dress was in there. He wouldn't let me see it. Actually, no one was allowed to see it. But I trusted him.

When Cinna had walked off the train two and a half weeks ago, I had barely recognized him. He was so thin, so fragile. Skin and bones. When he found out that we were getting married, he had insisted on making the wedding dress. I couldn't find it in me to argue. It was Cinna, and he could do miracles.

As Peeta and I kept feeding him, we agreed to postpone the wedding. I wanted one of Cinna's dresses, but two weeks were so little time. And he definitely didn't need any stress in his life.

But Cinna had refused, and he had been hiding in my Victory House for two weeks. Five hours each day. The rest of the time he was with us, and he didn't argue when we kept feeding him. Bread, and cookies, and cakes, and whatever I had been able to hunt. He always seemed to have something in his mouth.

And now he looked so much better. He looked almost healthy. He was almost glowing. He looked happy. I couldn't understand how, but Cinna was Cinna. He channeled his emotions into his designs. Maybe that's why he could look so happy today.

He had refused to tell me anything about his time as a prisoner in the Capitol. Said I didn't need to hear any of it. At times, I got the feeling that he had told Peeta something. Just certain looks. But I wasn't sure. There was no way of being sure, because Peeta assured me that he didn't know anything either.

Both of them were probably just protecting me.

"Let's take a look at you," he said, placing the dress carefully on a couch before he walked over to me. I had no idea how I looked like actually. Cinna had removed all of the mirrors. He really didn't want me to know how I looked like.

Inspecting my nails and my make-up, he nodded to himself as he looked at my hair. There was nothing done with it. I had no idea what he had planned.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"Don't you trust me?" he asked and I looked at him. I trusted him with my life.

"You know I do."

"Then close your eyes," he said gently and I did as I was told as I felt him turn me around. Then there was a soft fabric over my eyes. "But I don't trust you not to peek."

I laughed with him as he led me to a chair, and then I could feel his fingers through my hair. It almost felt like he was braiding it back, but I couldn't tell for sure. It took too long to be a braid.

Then he took my hands, leading me up to my feet, telling me to remove my robe. I did as I was told, and I felt soft, silky fabric against my skin after just a few seconds as he placed me in my dress. It felt tight to my skin, as if it was embracing my upper body, but it still managed to be comfortable. Light as feathers.

"Cinna?"

"Yes?"

"Is it seen as sinful in the Capitol to _complete_ a marriage before the actual marriage?"

"What is this coming from?" he asked, and I could almost hear his raised eyebrows.

"Something Octavia said; she seems to think that Peeta and I haven't, you know."

I could hear a chuckle, and suddenly I wasn't so nervous about the whole thing anymore.

"What did you tell her?"

"I played along," I said and he laughed again.

"That's probably the best idea," he answered me, and I laughed with him.

"Can I look?"

"Not yet," he informed me, lifting each of my feet up as he placed a shoe on them. Effie had put me in training again, weeks ago. I definitely felt steadier this time around, but the heels weren't too high.

"Now?" I asked impatiently. I wanted to know.

He took my hands, leading me away from where we were standing. He stopped me when I assumed that we were in another room of the house, and his fingers removed the blind fold.

"Now you can look."

The first thing I could see was my face in a mirror. The make-up was barely noticeable, and I was glad. It almost looked perfect. My hair _was_ braided back, but in it was also primroses. Flowers everywhere, braided into my hair. I hadn't noticed the smell because my bouquet was full of them, along with rueflowers and dandelions. It was beautiful.

And then there was the actual dress.

It was nothing like his other dresses. They were all beautiful, but this one was beyond that. Embracing my chest, it fell from my waist down, almost flowing. Touching the ground as I moved. An a-line silhouette, a strapless neckline, silk of the color ivory. It was a very simple design. Besides the draped fabric on the chest area, there was only really one detail that didn't fully belong. But yet it did. On my right hip, Cinna had embroided a flower. It was barely noticeable, just a tint darker than the rest of the dress. And it wasn't just any flower. It was a primrose. A very detailed one.

It was perfect, and I loved it.

"Do you like it?"

I felt like crying, so instead of talking and risking it, I turned around and hugged him. This man that had risked his life for me, for the rebellion. This man that I had thought to be dead for so long. This man that I still could not fully believe that he was really here.

"I love it," I finally choked out as I let go of him. "Thank you."

Taking a step away from me, he raised his finger into the air and made small circular movements. I knew what he wanted.

"No fire this time?"

"You have enough fire in here," he pointed at my heart, and I smiled as I twirled for him. He gave himself a small applause and I joined him. He deserved it.

Taking his hand, he led me down the stairs of my old Victory House. It was almost time. By the time we would reach the Justice Building, it _would_ be time.

"Don't you look ravishing, sweetheart?"

"Thank you," I said, giving Haymitch a hug. There was no smell of alcohol on him. He hadn't been drinking. I figured that he didn't want to trip while leading me down the aisle, but still. I had never seen Haymitch completely sober before. No one ever had. This was a first.

When I had asked him to lead me down the aisle, he had mumbled something about not deserving it. But he did. I wouldn't even be alive if it wasn't for him. Peeta wouldn't either. Sure, we had our disagreements, but it was Haymitch. And I wanted him there. And in a way, I did love the old drunk.

"Where's Effie?" I had expected her to be running around, screaming that there was not enough time for small talk. We had a tight schedule to follow, and all of that.

"She'll meet us at the Justice Building," Haymitch told me, taking my arm in his. I took Cinna's arm in my other arm, letting them lead me out from the Victory Village and to the Justice Building. I wasn't sure how the shoes would be on ground, and I didn't want to trip and ruin the dress. Effie was there to meet us at the back door, close to tears as she saw me.

"My pearl, you look beautiful," she smiled, her voice almost breaking.

"Radiating, I would say myself," I heard Cinna's voice and I felt myself smiling. It was so easy to smile today.

Placing a kiss on my cheek, Cinna left with Effie and I took a deep breath as the music started. The Valley Song. It was tradition to have it play when the bride walked down the aisle. Just the notes, no song, but every word went through my head as Haymitch led me through the aisle and toward Peeta.

He looked so handsome. Stunnig. Cinna had designed a black suit for him, fitting perfectly, and I could see no bigger alternations on him. The prep team had kept it natural, as Cinna had told them to.

As Haymitch let go of my arm, he looked at me before he leaned down to place a kiss on my cheek.

"You could do a lot worse, you know," he whispered before he patted my hand and turned around. His hand was quickly replaced by Peeta's, and I could feel the nerves I had disappearing as I felt his hand in mine.

"Hi," I whispered, standing opposite to him, and he laughed. I hadn't seen him since last night. An 'hello' seemed appropriate.

"Hey."

The Mayor started to talk then. He said all the things that was always said at a wedding in District 12. Something about two people becoming one, two souls becoming one. Two rings putting two people together as one.

The words seemed almost mumbled, but when it was Peeta's turn to speak, I could hear every word loud and clear.

"I've never had any problems with words. I've always felt like words is always enough, on the side of actions. I've always felt like I can always count on my words. Today, I feel like I can't. For the first time in my life, I feel like no matter what words I might say, they just wouldn't be enough. They wouldn't be enough to tell you how beautiful you look, or how much I love you. How much I will always love you. Today, words fail me. For the first time in my life, I'm speechless. But you _are_ beautiful, and I _do_ love you. And I need you. I always will. Trust that. Believe in that."

I fought my tears back as it was my turn to vow my love to him.

"I promised myself that I would never fall in love. Never get married, never have kids. I had lost too much, and I didn't want to risk loosing even more. But here we are. Despite how much I tried not to, I couldn't help falling in love. I couldn't help feeling how I feel whenever I see you, whenever you hold me. Whenever I feel your steady heart beat. Because no matter how much I tried to keep that promise to myself, I couldn't fight with the way you make me feel. When you look at me, I feel special. When you hold me, you make me feel loved. You always make me feel hope. And those are things that I just can't deny. But I don't deserve you. Everyone knows it. What they don't know is that I need you. That you keep me alive. Warm. Safe. They don't know that you make me feel something I haven't felt since my father was alive; whenever I'm around you, I feel like I'm home," my voice broke as the tears rolled down my face, and I tried to blink them away as best as I could. It wasn't working.

I didn't want to cry, but I couldn't help it. I could see Peeta's smile, and when he raised his hand to wipe away my tears his face leaned down toward mine.

"Not yet," the Mayor said, knowing just as well as I did what Peeta was about to do. Peeta let out a sigh as he leaned out again, and a round of laughter was heard. I hadn't even noticed our guests before now.

The Mayor said some more things before it was time for the rings. Peeta and I had both engraved something on the other's ring, and I wanted to know what was written in mine.

"Here is the place where I love you," I whispered as I placed the ring on Peeta's finger and I felt his smile. I looked impatiently at him as he took out my ring, placing it with my engagement ring. I knew that it was tradition to only wear one ring, but I would never take it off. It was my pearl, and I wanted it on me forever.

"Always," he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine, and I felt more tears falling down my face. Such a small word, but so meaningful to us.

A few more words from the Mayor, before he finally told us that it was time for the kiss. He barely had half of the words out before Peeta's lips was on mine, and I didn't care about the laughter that went through the room. All I cared about was my Peeta, and his lips on mine. His arms holding me against his body. But he let go all too soon.

According to Effie's tight schedule, there was a party to attend. Cake to eat, songs to dance to, jokes to laugh at. But before the cake was supposed to be rolled out, there was another District 12 tradition to tend to. The bride was supposed to dance with her father, and the groom to his mother. There was no fathers and mothers, but Haymitch offered his hand and I took it with a smile. I could see Peeta offering his hand to Effie, and I laughed as he pulled her onto the dance floor. She kept complaining that she had things to do, but he ignored her with an amused smile.

"I was wrong," Haymitch pulled my attention to him. "You do deserve him."

"No, I don't," I argued, glancing at Peeta where he was dancing with Effie. He was too good for me. But I did need him, and as long as he wanted me, then I would be happy.

"You two make the perfect match; you balance out each other. And I'm strangely happy that you were picked as tributes. I know I shouldn't be, but I wouldn't know you otherwise and..." his words cut short, and he looked away from me. Looked into thin air.

"Are you crying?"

The music faded as I asked the question, and Haymitch let go of me and blinked a few times. I almost thought he would say that he had gotten something in his eyes, but he shrugged and mumbled something about needing a drink before he walked away.

"Have you seen my wife?" I heard a voice say then and I turned around. "She's about this high and goes by the name of Mrs. Mellark?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," I smiled, taking Peeta's hand as he led me into a dance. "She's a lucky lady."

"_I'm_ the lucky one," he stated as his lips curved into a beautiful smile, his blue eyes glistening as they looked into mine. He led me around the room in a dance, and we both ignored Effie's words about how we were supposed to cut the cake. I couldn't wait to see it, knowing that Peeta was the mastermind behind it, but all I really wanted right now was to dance with my husband.

"Speechless. You, really?"

"I had a whole speech written out; I've known it word by word for weeks. And then you walked down the aisle, and my mind went blank."

"Cinna works miracles," I murmured, smiling up at him.

"It wasn't just Cinna," he answered before his lips brushed against mine, and at some point I realized that we had stopped moving. Eventually we were pulled away from each other by Effie, arguing about how we were already behind on the schedule and she couldn't have that. We would probably have to skip something. I stayed close to Peeta as the cake was rolled out, and until it was time for more dancing.

Though not many people were here, apparently all of them wanted to dance with the couple. Flavius was first to ask me for a dance, but there was more after him. I wanted to dance with Cinna, but others found me before he could. Rory and Vick was two of them. The dance with Pullox was nice but quiet. He knew how to lead a girl around the dancefloor. I knew that my mother was working on a way to get the Avoxes to talk again, and Pollux would be one of the first ones once she succeeded. She wasn't here. Said she couldn't find it in her to put a foot in District 12 after everything.

Both Cressida and Pullox were here. Once the word of Peeta's and my wedding was out over Panem, Ceasar wanted an interview. I said no. I knew it wasn't his fault, but I didn't want him in the same room as Peeta. Not again. Not after the last time. But the people would want a recap, and Cressida had offered a small sequence about it. Nothing from the actual wedding, that was personal, but small things from the party. Dancing, interviews with the guests. Something nice. And she was invited anyway, so Peeta and I agreed as long as we could have a copy. And if she also filmed the wedding, for us to keep.

Finally, I found myself dancing with my designer.

"Everyone is commenting on this dress; says it's your most fabulous work to date."

"You're the bride," he answered with a smile, and I knew what he meant.

"You know I agree with them. But I don't know how you managed to design it in so little time."

"The actual making doesn't take too long, and I've been designing it for years. In here," he pointed at his head. "Just in case."

"Cinna..."

"I never did stop betting on you, girl on fire."

He didn't even know if I had been alive or not, and yet he never gave up on me. He was the best friend anyone could ever imagine.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome."

As the dance ended, I smiled as I saw Annie dancing with her son. He was laughing, and she looked happy. I laughed myself when I saw Peeta asking Johanna for a dance.

"Go find someone who actually likes you."

He mocked a hurt expression, and I took his hand before pulling him to me.

"Don't worry, I like you."

"I thought everyone liked me," he stated, a pout on his lips. He couldn't keep it there for long though, and it soon grew into a chuckle. When I didn't laugh with him, he leaned his forehead against mine and let out a sigh while he moved me around the room in a dance.

"What's on your mind?"

Was it that obvious? Yeah, maybe it was.

"Our parents, your brothers, Prim... Everyone who should be here."

"Aren't they?" he asked, his tone indicating on the fact that they indeed were.

But they weren't.

But his eyes, the small smile playing on his lips, made me think about it.

"Aren't they always here?"

They weren't here in their psychical forms, but they were here. In our hearts, in our minds. They would always be right there. And if they were in our hearts and minds, then weren't they here as well?

I looked at Noah, the small, spitting image of Finnick, and felt myself smiling. I looked at Rory, and saw his older brother in his features. I looked at Haymitch and Effie, seeing all of the brave men and women who had lost their lives. I could feel Prim in my heart, where she would always be. And in Peeta's face, I saw his father's.

"Would your family approve of me?"

"You _are_ my family," he said, and let out a sigh when I gave him a small glare. He knew what I wanted to know. "My brothers, they used to tease me about you. They knew I had a crush on you, but they never knew that it was a lot more than a crush. If I hadn't threatened to stop doing their shifts at the bakery, they would have found a way to "bump" me into you. I don't know about my Mother, but my Father, he liked you. Maybe it was because of your Mother, but he always talked really sweetly of you. Even after I told him it was all just for the Games, he told me he was proud of me. For admitting my feelings for a girl from the Seam. He liked you, he really did."

"Maybe it was my squirrels," I joked and he laughed with me.

"It was a lot more than that."

"He was a good man."

I had not met him many times, I had not shared many conversations with him. But the times I had met him, the times we had traded squirrels for bread, I always got the impression that he was a good man. I never could understand what he was doing with his wife. Why he was with her. She didn't seem like someone who deserved him.

"I can't believe we're married," I changed the subject before he could say anything. "I can't believe_ I'm_ married."

What I had told him in my vows, it was nothing but the truth. The promise I made to myself; to never fall in love, never get married, never have kids. I still couldn't see the last part come true – I still didn't want kids – but I was happy to be married. And I felt guilty for being happy. For living my life. A life with a man that I loved, and kept falling in love with.

"Not yet," he corrected me with a smirk, and a longing in his eyes. He meant the toasting, of course. Effie had placed it last on the schedule, and I knew it wouldn't happen for at least another hour. But I wanted to be married to Peeta, and I couldn't be married to him completely without the toasting. It was a part of District 12, a part of who we were. It was something our parents had done to promise their love for each other. I wanted to toast that bread with him, and I wanted it now. No matter when Effie had placed it on the schedule.

He recognized the look in my eyes, and he squeezed my hand as his eyes wandered across the room with mine. Effie stood close to the only entrance, and we would have to go through her in some way to get out of here. We just had to figure out a good enough lie.

"Can't you see the kids wants some time alone?" Haymitch barked seconds later at Effie when she tried to stop us from leaving, and she started to argue with him. We could not leave, we were the special guests and the whole party was about us, of course we couldn't leave. Thankfully, Peeta was smooth with words, and Effie believed him when he said that Cinna had designed less formal clothes for us to wear at the toasting. After a few looks of speculation between the two of us, Haymitch, and Cinna dancing with Octavia, she eventually let us go with the promise to be right back.

"We promise," we lied in unison, and Peeta grabbed my hand tighter as he led me out of the Justice Building. We both knew that we had no intentions on coming back. We just wanted to be alone for the rest of the night. For the rest of our lives.

Peeta pulled off his jacket as he saw the rain outside, placing it on my shoulders before he lifted me up and carried me through town and home. It didn't matter how much I objected; he refused to let me down. Kept saying that he didn't want my pretty dress to the ruined in the mud on the ground. Frankly, I didn't want it either, and I liked his arms around me, so I let him carry me home. Grabbing the bread he had baked for the occasion, he led us into our living room and sat us down next to the open fire after lighting it. Peeta pulled me closer then, his hand removing the hair from my face, before his lips moved closer to my skin. I could feel myself shudder as his mouth left traces on the side of my neck, on my jaw, and finally on my lips. But he let go all too soon, long before I even had the chance to tangle my fingers in his blonde hair. From the look in his eyes, it was easy to read his thoughts. We had time for kisses and embraces eventually leading to more. We had a toasting to take care of. The last part of our wedding.

Breaking the bread, Peeta fed me a piece before I fed him one. Before I even had the time to chew, I could feel his lips on mine and I gladly kissed him back. My husband. Because now, truly, we were married. And we would always be.

As our kisses grew deeper, we leaned back and Peeta shifted his weight on me so that it wouldn't be too heavy. But he knew I didn't really care. He knew I liked feeling him close to me. I shuddered again as his lips moved from my lips to my throat, and I could feel them going down when he suddenly froze. I barely had the time to react before his blue eyes were gazing into mine.

"What?"

"We forgot to sing," he murmured. "We lit the fire, we did the toasting, but we forgot to sing."

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck, my fingers grabbing his thick, blonde hair before I pulled his face to mine.

"There's nothing traditional about us, is there?" I asked, knowing what the answer was. We both knew that. Nothing was traditional about us, but if things had been, we wouldn't be here.

I could feel Peeta's smile against my mouth before his lips captured mine again, and this time none of us broke the kiss for a long, long time.


	6. Painful memories

**Sorry it took so long to update, but I've been having some difficulties with my internet and there's a lot in school and stuff like that. But now there's finally a new chapter, and it's in Peeta's POV. I hope you will like it. There's a little bit of angst in there. I really love all the reviews I've been getting, so keep them coming, okay?**

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><p>I let me hand stay on my knee after positioning my leg right, my other hand resting in my lap. I watched Cinna as he nibbled on the bread I had given him, unaware of how concentrated he looked while he chewed. He almost looked like that bread was his savior.<p>

It didn't surprise me if he felt like that, somehow. When he came back he had been so fragile, and for a while I thought my bread and Katniss' meat wouldn't help. No matter how much we kept feeding him, nothing seemed to happen. But then, after a week or so, he started to look better. He hadn't gained much weight, but he had a glow around him. And now, three months after the wedding, he looked exactly like he used to.

Or you'd think so. I'd put my money on scars covering his entire body, hidden underneath his clothes. But there was no way to be sure. He hadn't said anything. Not to me. Not to Katniss. No matter how many times she asked, he just wouldn't talk.

Cinna had been offered to move into Katniss old Victory House when he announced that he'd move here permanently, but he didn't want it. Said it was too big. He lived there for now though, while I helped him build a new house. Well, me and a ton of district people. I didn't know how to build a house. I had only really designed the bakery and the apartment on top, but it was the townspeople that had helped me build it. Everyone had asked why I wanted so many rooms, or why I would live on top of the bakery. But it was just natural for me. I had always lived on top of a bakery. I had always lived in a house with a lot of rooms. I know it was only because I grew up with two brothers, and we had our own rooms, but it felt strange to have a small place. When Katniss moved in, we decorated one of the empty rooms to a guest room, and I used the other room to paint in.

Cinna caught me looking at him, and he let out a sigh as he put down the piece of bread he was holding in his hands. "What do you want to know?"

Would he really talk? I knew that he didn't want Katniss to know about the pain he had surely went through, and he knew that I would most likely tell her. If she asked, I wouldn't lie. I couldn't. Not to her.

"_How_ are you alive?" I had about a billion questions, but this one was the first to leave my lips. He didn't answer for a moment though, but I knew that he would. He had some things to work out, from the look on his face.

Finally, he moved his eyes from the surface of the table to me. "I don't know. I remember that moment before the Quell, saying goodbye to Katniss, and then the peacekeepers coming. I woke up in a dark, tiny space somewhere. At first they'd take me up a few hours at a time, try to get information out of me, but then they just stopped. They never came back, and I don't know why. It was too dark to count days, but I think they gave me something to drink a few times a week. Sometimes they added something to eat. I don't know how I managed to survive for five years, but I wouldn't have lasted much longer. I was practically dead when they found me."

"How much do you know of what happened when you were...?"

"Basically nothing. They obviously succeeded in saving you from the arena, but they haven't told me anything. All they said to me was that Snow was dead, and then they gave me a number to call. I didn't even know if you were alive before Katniss picked up. And now here we are."

He didn't know anything. How could they not have told him? He deserved to know. We hadn't told him because we thought he knew, and neither Katniss or I liked talking about it much. Why hadn't he asked _us_ though?  
>I figured I might as well tell him. I knew that Katniss wouldn't be home for at least an hour – it was Sunday, and she usually spent as much time in the woods as possible on Sundays.<p>

"They never came back for you, because they had me."

"What?" he looked shocked, as he should be. He didn't know that they held me prisoner, just as I didn't know about Cinna until Katniss finally told me months after Snow's and Coin's deaths.

"They almost didn't succeed with taking us out from the arena. Katniss and I had no idea about their plans, and we talked about taking off on our own. We didn't trust anyone but the other. But before we could take off, things went wrong. Eventually, Katniss, Beetee and Finnick managed to get out of the arena alive. The Capitol took me and Johanna, and the few that was still alive. At first they just held me, forcing me to talk in these televised interviews, but when that didn't work, they started with the torture. They would break me down completely, and then put me back together. When I still wouldn't talk, they hijacked me. Taking memories, turning and twisting them into something bad. I thought Katniss was someone I hated, someone who wanted to kill me. Hell, I thought everyone wanted to kill me. Eventually, I started to realize what was real and not. I found a way back to who I used to be, mostly because of Katniss. But there's still moments when I don't know who or where I am. It's usually that confused moment after I've woken up from a dream. Katniss hasn't been around for it to happen because she always wakes up before I do, and I'm glad. I don't trust myself when I have those moments. Sometimes I think they made me into a monster, and there's no way back."

Truthfully, a part of me thought that Katniss would be able to bring me back up to what's real, like she did when she kissed me on that roof, but there's no way to be sure. And that terrified me. Not knowing.

"How much of this does she know?"

"Not much," I answered truthfully. It just felt better if she stayed in the dark. If she thought I was fixed completely. But a part of me would always be broken, and I would always fear the day I'd wake up with her next to me, and I'd want to kill her. I was so close in that hospital, and I can't forgive myself for that. I know she has, but I just can't. What if I had actually killed her? "It just seems better that she doesn't know _everything_. I'm gonna tell her one day though. When she's ready."

We continued to talk for a few hours, and I told him whatever he asked. He answered all of my questions. He had been a part of the rebellion for so long. His father was a part of it, and when he died, Cinna wanted to continue in his footsteps. He asked for our district because he saw what Katniss did for Prim, and he said he needed that courage himself. He thought that knowing someone like Katniss would give him that. And it did. He was a part of Haymitch and Plurtach's plans for a long time, but he also thought that it was better if we didn't know. Safer. He designed the Mockingjay outfit long before it was even announced that we would be brought back into the arena. He knew what the burning dress would do to him, but he said that he'd gladly give his life for us. For Katniss. For a free Panem.

I couldn't help but to admire him. His strenght and his will. His courage.

"When is Katniss coming home?" Cinna asked and I looked outside. It was dark. It was long after dinner time, and she should have been home a long time ago. A sudden worry suddenly rose inside me. I knew she could take care of herself, but anything could have happened.

"She'll probably be home soon," I lied smoothly. "But I gotta run an errand to Haymitch. You can stay if you want to, but I don't know how long it's gonna take. Might take some time to knock some life into him."

Cinna told me he should probably he heading home, and we walked together toward the Victor's Village. Watching him walk into Katniss old house, I glanced over at Haymitch's house. I knew there was a small chance that Katniss was there, but I might as well just ask. When he didn't answer the door after what felt like a thousand knocks, I walked through the unlocked door and fought the urge to throw up. Katniss was definitely not here, but Haymitch was knocked out on the sofa. I moved the half empty bottles to the kitchen, pouring them out, knowing that he would be pissed at me later. Then I opened pretty much every window in the house before I left again.

If she wasn't here, then she was still in the woods. But it was getting dark, and she wouldn't be able to see anything. It was also starting to rain, and I knew that the slight pain in my leg would soon be throbbing. That always happened when it was raining. Or snowing. Or basically any time my leg got cold or wet. But I ignored it and kept walking. Walking past the Meadow, into the woods, and past the place where Katniss and Gale used to meet up. All the while calling out for her. I knew she'd hear me anyway, because as she had pointed out countless of times before, I wasn't exactly quiet. But the worry kept building up in me as more and more time passed without me getting a response. At that point, every possible scenario went running through my head. She could have fallen out of a three, and gotten injured. She might have cut herself. Some wild dogs might have found her. I didn't know what was possible to find this deep into the woods.

I was in the middle of trying to decide whether to worry even more or give up and face the fact that maybe we had missed each other, when I heard something and looked up. I could only barely make out the dark silhouette in the dark night, but there she was. Our eyes locked while I let out a sigh and realized that she was alright. When I asked what she was doing up there, she didn't answer me and annoyance started to build up inside of me. I don't know if it was because she didn't answer my question, or because I had been worried for so long.

"Are you going to come down, or at least answer me?"

When she didn't move, I figured not, and my annoyance grew even more.

"Fine. After hours of looking, and worrying, I'm glad to see you're okay. I'll be heading home now, because I'm tired, and hungry, and my leg hurts. I guess I'll see you later. Or not. Whatever."

Turning around, I placed my hands in my pocket and started to walk. It was getting colder and colder, and frankly, right now, I didn't care about anything other than getting home. I needed food, and some sleep.

"Peeta?"

"What?" I turned around, even more annoyed now then before, and noticed that Katniss was on the ground just a few metres away from me. And then we just stood there, staring at each other in the moonlight. I was about to turn around and leave when she finally spoke again.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Tell you _what_?"

"You know what I'm talking about," she said, and I tried to think. And then it clicked. Of course I knew what she was talking about. She had been there, she had heard me. But how much? She was always so quiet, she could have heard everything. But something told me she didn't. Something told me she had left somewhere in the middle of it all. It would explain why she was sitting here in the woods, trying to avoid not only me but everything. That's what she always did when she needed to think.

"How much did you hear?" my voice was instantly softer, knowing the reason for why she was out here in the first place.

"I heard enough."

She already knew what I had always been so afraid to tell her, so I might as well tell her why I was afraid of her knowing.

"I didn't tell you because I'm scared. I didn't tell you because I don't want you to know how broken I am. I don't want you to know that I'm scared that I'm gonna wake up one day, and you'll be there, and I won't remember this, _us_. I'm scared I'm not going to remember that I love you. That you helped me through it all, that you never gave up on me. I'm scared that if you know, you'll leave. You'll be too freaked out to stay. Too freaked out to love me. I didn't tell you because I don't want you to know that they finally managed to turn me into some kind of monster."

For a long time, she just stood there staring at me and I didn't know what to expect. Would she run, would she speak, would she just stand there? I had no idea. I usually loved how hard she was to read sometimes, because it gave me a challenge, but not now. Now I wanted to read her every thought. Know everything that was going on inside her head at the moment.

Then she slowly took half a step toward me, before she opened her arms and I met her halfway. My arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her close, as her arms wrapped around my neck, pulling us even closer to each other. We stood so close we could have been one person, and I could feel her tears falling down her face, burrowed in the crook of my neck.

"You're not a monster," she mumbled after a moment, her voice muffled against my neck. Then she leaned out, and she grabbed my face in her hands, forcing me to meet her eyes. Not that I'd ever look away from those beautiful gray eyes anyway. "Listen to me, you're not a monster. You never were, and you never will be. _Snow_, he was the monster. You're perfect, and I'll always want you. Always need you. Always love you. I'll _always_ stay with you, no matter what. And if you do wake up one day, not knowing what's real and not, I'll bring you back."

"Promise?" I asked, and she nodded before her lips softly pressed against mine.

"Always." Another kiss, and then she leaned out and wrapped her arm around my waist. "Now let's get you home and feed you."

I laughed as I placed my arm around her shoulder, but none of us spoke until we reached District 12. Until we reached home. Katniss reminded me that Haymitch was supposed to come over for dinner, but I reassured her that he wouldn't even notice how late dinner was.

"He'll probably try to steal your leg again," she said after I told her that I poured all of his alcohol out. I laughed and knew that she was probably right. The last time I did such a thing, Haymitch broke in and tried to sneak up the stairs to our home. What he didn't expect was that Katniss had heard something, and after a surprising knife to his throat, he squeezed out that he wanted to take my leg to get back at me. All before she even had the time to realize that it was him.

It would have been fairly easy for him to take it though. When I first got it, trying to get used to the feeling, I refused to take it off. It scared me to only have one leg, and even though the other one was artificial, at least it was a leg. Something to lean on. Eventually, when I got used to the feeling, I started to take it off when it was time for sleep. Usually it ended up on the floor beside the bed, but sometimes it would end up in the living room after a relaxing night with Katniss on the couch.

"I'll make sure to hide it well," I told her and heard her laugh. That laugh was good to hear. It meant that she wasn't thinking about what she had heard and what I had told her.

After dinner – consisting of leftovers from yesterday since both of us were too tired to cook – we ended up on the couch. I could feel Katniss body relaxing against mine, and I smiled into her hair.

"How often does it happen?" she whispered and my smile faded. She wasn't done talking about this. I couldn't blame her, I'd want to know too.

"I don't know, sometimes."

"When's the last time it happened?"

"About a week ago," I told her honestly and felt her stiffen beside me. She wanted to know, and I wouldn't lie. "Would it feel better if I told you every time it happened?"

I could feel her nod, and I let out a sigh. Hoping more than ever that it would never happen again.

"I'm sorry," she said then, her voice almost breaking and I furrowed my brows. What was she sorry about? She had nothing to be sorry for. "I'm the reason they took you. Why they did all of those things to you. I'm the reason you have those dreams. He saw me fall in love with you, and he used you to break me. I hated you for not remembering me. For not being you. I hated you for making me hate you more than Haymitch. And I'm so sorry for that."

I knew that there was nothing I could say to make her feel better; she would only argue with me. We had been down that road several times before, and I didn't want to argue right now. So instead, I just told her what I felt.

"I love you."

I pressed a kiss against her temple, and I could feel her relaxing again.

"If you, or Prim, had never been picked, do you think we'd be here right now?"

"Probably not," I confessed after thinking for a while. "I was always too scared to talk to you. I never had a good enough reason. So no, we probably wouldn't be here."

"Then where would we be?"

"You'd be with someone else, and I'd probably still be pining over you," I felt myself laughing despite the scene in my head. Despite the fact that I knew that it could have so easily been like that. And I knew who that other man would be. There was only really him for a long time. Until Prim's name was picked, and our lives crossed again. And I knew that it was wrong, but I was happy that it was Prim's name. That it was my name. And I felt guilty for being happy. But despite everyone that we had lost, this is the life that I had always wanted. Me and Katniss.

"Sometimes I wonder."

"About what?"

"Why I ever even considered Gale. No matter how much I clung to him, he could only really have my friendship. I could only give him a piece of me, just like I could only give bits and pieces to everyone else that I knew. I thought no one would ever have every bit of me for as long as I lived. And then you changed that. Thinking about it, you're the only one I've ever wanted."

I didn't like hearing about Gale, but the rest I did like. It warmed me, hearing how much she loved me. How I had every piece of her. How she had never loved or wanted anyone else but me in this way.

"Not even when Finnick offered himself to you?"

She laughed at my joke and then leaned out so that she could met my eyes.

"Not even then when I saw him in his underwear," she laughed again. "I only go for men who doesn't do anything other than bake and heave sacks of flour around."

"Hey, I do other stuff as well," I gave her a fake sour tone. "I paint."

"You're handsome, too."

"See? There's more to me than meets the eye."

She looked at me for a long time, and I couldn't fully read the expression in her eyes. They were warm and full of love, but there was something else in there as well.

"What?"

"You saved my life."

"You saved mine too, you know." I was about to press a kiss against her lips when her words sunk in. "When did you see Finnick in his underwear?"


	7. Gatherings and camera teams

**I had some serious difficulties with naming this chapter, but the next one was a lot easier. I've started writing on the next chapter, and it might be divided into three pieces, considering it's a pretty huge arc in their lives, but yeah, we'll see. **

**I hope you'll like this chapter, and keep the reviews coming. I love them, and I love you for reading this.**

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><p>"We don't have to do this," Peeta said gently as he walked up beside me, and I let out a sigh.<p>

I didn't want to do this, and Peeta didn't either, but we had our duties as tributes and Victors. And from surviving the War. Parts of it would be good – meeting everyone again. But it would hurt.

"But we do," I told him, staring out over the ocean of District Four. We had arrived earlier today, and we were already late to the feist. Officially, it was a meeting for those who survived the rebellion – the victors and the soldiers. My mother would be there. Gale. Paylor and Plutarch. Beetee, Johanna, Annie. Probably more people that I didn't even know the names of.

I was surprised to get the invitation now. It was such a strange time. Five years had passed a few years ago, but ten hadn't. We were in the middle. This year marked seven years. Seven years since I had met so many of them. Some of them I talked to frequently, some I hadn't talked to in a few years. Some I hadn't seen since I left The Capitol all those years ago.

Peeta's hand brushed against my side and I felt a small smile appear on my lips. I could do this, with the help of him. Having Peeta on my side always helped. It made me stronger.

We stayed a few more moments, watching the sun fall over the horizon, turning the sky into a beautiful orange color. At a distance, I could see a man teaching his child to fish in the shallow water. It was easy to understand why Finnick had loved this place so much.

"Did I tell you that you look beautiful?" Peeta asked as we started to walk, his hand taking a good hold of mine. I squeezed it, holding my shoes in my free hand. I could feel my dress brushing against my skin in the light wind, and I enjoyed the warm July sun warming my face. The breeze made sure that my let out hair didn't stay in place, and I could feel my heart beating hard against my chest.

"You didn't," I smiled as I looked at him. His eyes were warm, his smile genuine. Wearing a blue button up shirt, his pants were pulled up a little bit to avoid the water. I knew he would pull the legs down as soon as we got near other people, not wanting everyone to see his artificial leg.

He was the beautiful one.

"Well, you do," he said, stopping us at the fence to Johanna's house. She was the only one still living in a Victory House, and those houses were the only ones big enough to fit all of us. "Are you ready?"

Letting go of his hand for a short moment, I pulled on my shoes and nodded before I followed him through the fence and around the corner of the house. I grasped his hand harder as I saw the people in the garden as he did the same with my hand. Before I even had the time to look around, I heard Paylor's voice from beside me.

"Finally, you're here. Let's gather in the living room, shall we?"

Peeta and I looked at each other, but we didn't question Paylor as we followed her inside. In there, I could already see every alive Victor that Panem had ever seen. I was surprised to notice that Haymitch had the decency to not be too drunk already. He was drunk alright, but at least he could stand up steadily with one hand on the wall. I took a seat next to Johanna as Paylor spoke.

"I know that officially we're here to gather with the survivors of the rebellion. At least a few of them. But we have a more pressing issue."

"What?" Peeta wanted to know when she didn't continue and she took a deep breath.

"Apparently, some citizens of Panem are complaining. Have been for years, but I've ignored it because there was never really anything to do about it. Now it's getter louder, and I came up with an idea."

"What are they complaining about?" Johanna asked, clearly annoyed. We all wanted to know.

"They think it's not fair that the Victors still have their fame and fortunes. They think that those were the days of Snow, of the Games. And since neither exists anymore, they think that we should all live equally poor. Or rich. They think that we got our happily ever after, and they didn't. But they don't know what we do. They don't _feel_ what we feel. They don't remember what we remember. I think we need to do something about that."

"Like what?" Haymitch's words were slurred, but everyone heard them.

"A collage. If everyone agrees to it, I would like a camera team to follow you around for a few days and nights. So that people can see that we're not all happy. So that people can see that we struggle just as much as they do, if not more, but in a different way."

I liked the idea. I didn't want people to know that I struggled, but I didn't want another war. I didn't want more people dying. And Paylor was right, they didn't know how we lived, or felt, or even struggled to get out of bed some days. But I couldn't say yes without talking to Peeta. It was his house too, his home. His private life. We had turned down so many interviews, so many appearances, because we wanted our personal lives to be left alone. _We_ wanted to be left alone, forgotten. We wanted to be able to be ourselves without the entire country watching over us. But to the people, I was still the Mockingjay. A piece of history. And history always found a way to be remembered.

After a moment of silence, people started to speak up. Beetee was first to give his acceptance, but after him came Johanna. Annie agreed as Haymitch did. Then it was just me and Peeta left. With one look into his eyes, he knew what I wanted.

"We'll do it," he nodded and Paylor did the same.

"I'll put up a team, and we'll start here in District Four next week. Then we'll move District by District. We'll talk more about this later. Now let's get something to eat, okay?"

Haymitch came up to us as we started to walk outside again, to the rest of the guests, and his breath was heavy with alcohol. Would he even remember this tomorrow?

"This should be interesting, sweetheart," he slurred, and I looked at Peeta. He understood what I wanted, and he nodded before letting go of my hand and leading Haymitch away from everyone else. Haymitch would pass out soon enough anyway, so he might as well do it on a bed.

Walking outside, I could see my mother chatting with Gale, a beautiful woman standing next to him with a young child in her arms. She was pregnant again. His family was beautiful. I was about to walk over and announce that I was here when a voice stopped me from behind.

"Katniss," Ceasar said, and I stood still with my back against him. I didn't want to see him. It would be too painful. "Could I please talk to you for a minute?"

After a moment, I decided that it would be the right thing to do. To let him talk to me. I had promised myself that I would be nice today. No fights. So I turned around and gave him a slight nod.

He looked rather natural, and I had never seen him like this. Rarely any makeup, his hair was jet black. Despite the warm weather, he was wearing long pants and a long sleeved shirt. I could see the sweat on his skin.

"I'm sorry about everything. I know that you hold me partly responsible for what happened to Peeta, but I was just as much a piece of their games as you were."

"Somehow, I don't believe that," I said, keeping my voice controlled. I was about to walk away when he grabbed my arm. He knew that I could hurt him, which is why I didn't.

Hesitating before letting go, he started to pull up the sleeves of his shirt. My eyes followed the movements of his hands, and at first I didn't understand what I was seeing. What he wanted me to see. But then I could make out something on his skin – letters written in black ink. Hundreds of them, maybe even thousands. Both of his arms were filled with names.

"What is this?" I asked in a disbelieving voice.

"The names of every tribute I have ever interviewed," he told me. "I have yours and Peeta's right here." Twisting his right arm, he showed me a spot on his wrist and I could make out both of our names on there along with every other tribute from that year. "I sincerely am sorry, and I sincerely like you. Both of you. And I hope that your lives will be filled with laughter and joy."

Then he turned around and walked away from me, pulling his sleeves down as he did so.

For a while I just stood there, trying to understand what had just happened, but then I heard Peeta's laughter and I turned around in the direction of the sound. I could see him playing with Noah, and they both looked so happy. I felt my lips curving into a smile as I watched them play and heard them laugh.

"So, when are you and Lover Boy over there having kids?"

"I don't know," I answered Johanna, my voice distant.

I knew that Peeta wanted kids. He had always wanted them. But I had never wanted them. I had always been so scared, so broken. I couldn't take care of a baby, could I? I would never make a good mother.

But what would happen if I didn't give him a baby? Would he grow to hate me eventually? Would he leave me for someone else, someone who would give him babies? I knew that he would never do that now, that he loved me, but what if he hated me? Peeta deserved someone who was willing to give him a son, or a daughter. But he also knew that I didn't want children, and probably never would. And yet he had married me. Yet he was so loving, so caring, so gentle. So selfless. He had never walked out when I screamed at him that he should just leave, find someone healthy that could love him, that would give him what he wanted. All he ever said was the he didn't want a baby, he wanted _my_ baby. And if I didn't want one, he'd be okay with that.

I didn't deserve him.

Johanna said something else, but I didn't listen as I turned around and left for the ocean again. I didn't feel like being around all those people. It hurt to see Gale again. To see my mother. They both reminded me so much of Prim. I knew that this was supposed to be nice, happy, but for me this group of people would always remind me of everything that I wanted to forget.

Taking my shoes off again as soon as I reached the beach, I felt the sand in between my toes and as I reached the shore I slipped out of my dress and slowly walked out into the water. Despite the night, it was fairly warm and nice, and I swam out far before I stopped and turned around. I could see the lights from the houses on the beach, could hear the laughter at the party I had just left.

But I ignored it all and took this moment to think about Finnick. This is where he was – or at least his spirit. There was never a funeral, never a full body to bury. The mutts tore him apart too much for that.

He lived in his Noah – in his laughter, in his personality, in his heart – and sometimes it still hurt to see him. Finnick became a good friend, he was someone I could rely on, so it was inevitable to not think of him as I could feel the salty water against my skin. It was inevitable not to miss him.

I owed him so much, and I wished there was some way for me to pay him back.

But there wasn't.

I could see a silhouette walking on the beach then, toward the water, and I recognized it as Peeta. He had probably seen me walk off, and he probably figured that he had given me enough time to be alone. And he had. I didn't want to be alone. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted him.

Swimming back, I slipped into my dress before I sat down in the sand next to him. His arm instantly came around my body and I rested my head against his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"I'm better now," I said truthfully and I felt him pressing a kiss against my temple. "I want to go home."

"There's a train first thing tomorrow, but we might have some difficulties getting Haymitch on it," he murmured, a small chuckle in his voice. I could feel myself smile with him, even though I was worried about Haymitch sometimes. It couldn't be healthy to drink as much as he did. I wish there was something we could do to make him stop. But we had tried it all, and Haymitch would drink for as long as he wanted to. It was his way to deal with the nightmares.

"I don't want you to hate me," I whispered and Peeta pulled me closer. "I saw you with Noah, and you're so good with kids, and I know that you want them. But I don't think I do, and..."

"I could never hate you," he interrupted me and I heard how sincere he sounded. His words made me relax a little bit, making me believe him. Maybe it would be enough with the two of us.

* * *

><p>Haymitch was surprisingly sober, given what we were supposed to do. Supposed to watch.<p>

It had been three months since we met in District Four, since Paylor told us about the situation. Three weeks later they had set up a camera in every room of our home, and one team followed us around on the days for an entire week. Even though they wanted to, I refused to let them come with me when I hunted. They made too much noises, and I would never be able to catch a game with a camera in my face.

Another team followed Haymitch around, and he hated it just as much as we did. But we knew why we had agreed to do it, and after a while I got used to the cameras following me around. There were many things I could not do though, with the cameras so close, always watching us.

Now, taking our seats on blankets on the ground, we waited for the documentary to debut. Paylor had told us that it would last for about two hours, and that every citizen in Panem had been told to watch. I don't know how we managed, but every person in District 12 fit in the town's square. In some ways it reminded me of the Reaping Day, how everyone was collected like this. But there was another atmosphere now. We all knew that no one would be reaped, no one would die.

Peeta wrapped his arm around my shoulder as I rested against his side, Haymitch sitting beside us with a bottle in his hands. Next to me sat Cinna, and next to him was Effie. Effie was probably the only one in our little group that was even a little bit excited. Peeta, Haymitch and I were only here because we had to be here, we didn't want to watch this. Didn't want to get reminded. It would hurt. I had no idea how they had puzzled this together. They might have put in some clips from the Games, or District 13. I knew they had cameras there, especially in the hospital. I was mostly scared that they would show bits and pieces of Peeta's torture. That was something I did not want to see.

The chatter among us silenced when Paylor's face showed on screen. There was no introduction to what was to come. She was just there, telling us her story. We saw her have nightmares, waking up screaming in the night with tears running down her face. She had no one by her side to comfort her, to promise her that everything would be okay. I grasped Peeta's hand, and willed him to be closer to me.

They moved on to Beetee. We saw him talk aloud to himself, finishing sentences that had not been there in the first place. But I knew that they had. He could probably hear Wiress in his head, finishing the sentences she never ended.

Johanna talked about her fear of water, of why she lived so close to the ocean, and then she talked about what Snow had done to her. We saw her take care of a fatherless Noah as Annie had her mental break downs. The only thing that seemed to be calming her was to repeatedly tie knots on a rope so old and torn it had to be Finnick's.

Then it was time for us. Haymitch first. We saw him drown himself in liqour to repress his daily nightmares. More than once did his life cross with ours. We saw Peeta and me trying to wake him up, and when we finally managed, he always pulled a knife at us.

"Sorry," Haymitch muttered from beside us, taking a zip from his almost empty bottle.

We saw us cook him dinner, clean his home, and help him with his geese. In his interview, he confessed that he'd probably be dead if it wasn't for us. I wanted to argue with him, tell him that it was the other way around, but just then I heard my own voice. Screaming for Prim, Peeta and my Father. They cut rather quickly to Peeta digging up some of his old paintings, the ones that showed his nightmares. He had stopped painting them like that. Now he only painted what he loved. Beautiful things. No more blood, no more tears, was painted by his steady, gentle hands.

Despite our separate interviews, they always managed to show us as a team. Peeta holding me tight after a nightmare, whispering calming things in my ear. They'd show the little things we did on a daily basis. How I never failed to hurry home from the woods to make sure that he was alright, and how he always baked me something special. How we always closed the bakery together. They even had a clip of me singing him back to sleep after a particularly bad dream that had woken him.

Peeta's and my interviews had been done as voice overs, playing over the clips that was showing. They managed to mix our words perfectly, so that it seemed that we were always taking about the same things. Then Peeta talked about the hijacking, and there was a clip from District 13. One that showed his rescue, how broken he was. One that showed me coming into the hospital, searching for his arms. One that showed his hand around my throat.

Peeta stiffened beside me, his head leaning down on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered over and over again against the crook of my neck, and I could feel his cold tears against my skin. I fought back my own tears, hating to see him like this, and placed my hand on the back of his head, my fingers intertwining with his blonde, thick hair. I knew that it calmed him, and I had to do everything I could for him right now.

I knew how guilty he felt about that moment, and I knew that there was nothing I could do to change it. I had tried so many times, but he didn't believe me when I told him I didn't judge him for it. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't him. But he would always be guilty for that moment, just as I would always owe him for the bread.

"It's okay," I whispered back, pulling him closer to me. "It's almost over."

I didn't watch the rest, my eyes staring out into nothingness above his head. I could feel eyes on us, but I didn't care. All I cared about was Peeta, and how I had to be there for him right now.

Peeta's eyes stayed closed until Haymitch announced that it was over, and just as he rose his head, you could hear my scream reach out over the District. Reach out over the country. Then there was Peeta's calming voice, reasurring me that everything was going to be okay. He never told me that it was just a dream, because we both knew that it wasn't. And then the screen went black again.

Not a single word was said for a long time, everyone trying to understand what they had just seen. They hadn't been told, after all. I knew that there wasn't really any complaints in District 12 though. They saw Peeta and me on a daily basis. They bought bread from him, and I was one of the biggest meat suppliers. I always gave my meat to Rooba, who sold to everyone else to a fair price. They all knew why Haymitch drank, and they had seen Peeta's episodes when he first came back. And sometimes, I'd wake up thinking that my screams had woken the entire district.

They knew how much we suffered. And now they knew even more.

When someone finally spoke, the voice belonged to Haymitch.

"That sure was interesting."


	8. Unexpected: News

**Okay, so this is the first part of a two or three part arc. It's going to be easy to figure out what the other parts might be about, but I'm not sure yet how long I'm gonna make it. I'm going to try to start writing on the next part this weekend, but I can't promise anything. Another story has been nagging at the back of my mind for almost a week, and it's just waiting to be written. It's just a one shot though, so it shouldn't take too long to finish. **

**Hopefully I'll have the next part up by the end of next week. Thank you for reading, and thank you all for the reviews I got on the last chapter. Also, I might change the rating on this story. I rated it M just in case - I always do that and then I see where the story goes. This story hasn't gone in that direction yet though, and I'm doubting it will. But who knows what my mind will come up with?**

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><p>"Wake up!" I finally snapped as I tossed a bucket of ice cold water on Haymitch. He was supposed to come over for dinner over two hours ago, but he clearly missed it for a date with his bottles.<p>

In the short confused moment after his awakening, Haymitch pulled a knife on me but dropped it to the floor once he realized that it was me and not an intruder.

"You need to stop doing that," he told me sourly as he sat down on the couch, pulling his hand through his dirty, greasy hair. He needed a shower.

"I will when you stop passing out."

"What do you want?"

"I need you to sober up," I said, handing him a plate of leftovers and a glass of water. I watched as he ate, filling his glass with water a few times. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed the plate away from him, almost in disgust. He would thank me later. Eventually I cleaned the plate and the glass, continuing with the rest of his dishes and clearing a path through the dirt in his living room. Neither Peeta or I had had the time to help him clean this week, and Haymitch wouldn't exactly do it himself.

"I'm as sober as I'm ever gonna be," he confessed after about an hour. One where we hadn't said a word to each other. None of us had ever been good at small talk, and definitely not when it came to small talking with each other. But for many years, Haymitch had been there for me when I needed help. Advice. He had been the one to go to if I needed an honest opinion.

But I didn't know how to ask, and eventually he started to guess.

"If you and Lover Boy had a fight, that's not my problem. Granted, you're like kids to me, but it's still not my problem."

"I thought we were more like your pets," I smiled and he returned if after a while of pondering.

"Yeah, maybe. Never wanted kids anyway. But pets, they keep good company. And all you gotta do is feed 'em and love 'em."

"And keep them alive," I reminded him and he smirked.

"That too, huh?" He laughed once, "but we gotta remember; you're the one feeding me."

I could feel the corners of my mouth curving into a smile, but then I dropped it and leaned back in the couch opposite to Haymitch. A sigh left my lips before I said anything.

"We didn't have a fight, but I do need some advice."

He waited for me to continue is silence, as I tried to figure out exactly what to say. After a few minutes, I realized there was only one way to say it. And I wasn't lacking in words, I was lacking in courage. But I had to get it out, and being straight and forward was for the best. It would be easier.

"I'm pregnant," I finally managed to choke out and Haymitch blinked a few times, leaning forward toward me. From the look on his face, he was trying to figure out whether or not he had heard me correctly. When I didn't say anything more, he leaned back again and accepted my words.

"Does he know?" he asked, and I shook my head. "Why haven't you told him? He deserves to know, it's his kid too."

"That's where you come in."

"I'm not going to do it for you, sweetheart."

"And I don't need you to," I snapped and then closed my mouth quickly. I never meant to do that. This was supposed to go well, this was my practice run. Haymitch would supposed to be the easy one to tell. When I spoke again, I kept my voice low. "I don't know how or when to say it."

"Peeta's smart, he'll figure it out soon enough. Tell him before that. As to how, well that's your problem. I'm not good at this." He was quiet for a moment, looking at me. "Why did you even come to me about this?"

"Because you always know what to do," I whispered. And because I trusted him to help me with this. Because I needed him to.

"Have you two ever talked about kids?"

Yes, we had. The last time was about a year ago, when I told Peeta that I was warming up to the idea of giving him a child. Of giving him what he wanted. He told me to wait, to really think about it. It wasn't a small decision to make, and he knew what I had always thought about having kids. He didn't want me to do it for him, so he told me to think. And honestly, I wasn't sure if I was done thinking yet. But I couldn't ignore this and make it go away. I was scared. I had failed Prim. What if I failed this tiny person growing inside me? What if I wasn't capable of loving this child, of being the mother this child needed?

I answered Haymitch with a simple nod.

"Do you want it?"

"Peeta..."

"Do _you_ want it?" he cut me off. "Not Peeta. _You_."

"I don't know, maybe," I answered, and he looked at me. He knew I was lying, so I had to give him the truth. It came out in a whisper, "yes."

But I was so, so scared to fail this baby. To fail Peeta. My strong, kind, gentle Peeta. Would he hate me if I failed this baby like I failed Prim? If I couldn't love this baby like I loved her? Like I loved him?

"Then tell him that," Haymitch rose from his seat. "Just say it. You can't screw that up."

He started to move, and I saw him walk up the stairs.

"Maybe not that, but everything else," I said to myself.

"I heard that," Haymitch called out, and I watched him walk down the stairs with a box in his hands a few moments later. "And you won't screw up."

"What if I can't love his baby?"

"It's yours too, sweetheart, and you will," he stated in a matter-of-fact voice, tossing half empty bottles of alcohol into the box.

"How do you know?"

"Because you took Prim's place. You saved Peeta's life. You put up with me, no matter what I do. Because you love too much, if there's such a thing. Because family means everything to you."

I ignored the fact that he might actually be right, wondering what he was doing.

"Panem sees me as as the old drunk, a joke. I know you and Peeta does too."

"No, we don't," I argued with him, but he ignored me and continued.

"I don't care. Never have, and I'm definitely not starting now. But that kid is a brand new person. A person that doesn't know how Panem used to be. I want to be a part of that child's life. I want to babysit, I want to be there for the first words and the first steps. And I want to remember it. I want that kid to love me. So before I change my mind," he stuffed the box into my arms. "Pour it out. Hide it. Drink it, for all I care. Just get rid of it, and make sure I never touch it again, for as long as I live. On second thought though, don't drink it. Can't be good for the baby."

"Don't worry, I won't," I promised, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Was he serious? I couldn't be sure - I wasn't even sure if he was sure - but I couldn't waste an opportunity like this one. This time he actually said it himself. This time Peeta or I didn't make the decision for him. He did. And he usually kept what he promised.

So I poured it all out in his sink and he didn't fight with me. He didn't even complain. He just sat back on the couch and watched me with an amused smile.

"I can't believe you've got a bun in the oven," he said as I sat down in the chair opposite to him. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them.

"I can't believe you'll never drink again."

"Okay, that was fair," he admitted with a laugh. "It's getting late, you should head home."

"We buried Buttercup today," I said, ignoring his words.

Peeta found the old stupid cat this morning, next to the bushes of primroses that he planted behind the bakery when I moved in. Buttercup probably hadn't been dead for long he said, and when he told me I was relieved. I wouldn't have to take care of the ugly cat anymore. I wouldn't have to worry. But then I remembered what he meant to Prim, and Peeta held me close as I cried against his shoulder.

"You're stalling, sweetheart."

"They want to put up a statue of me and Peeta in the Capitol. Unveil it for the ten year anniversary next year."

Paylor called yesterday, said the people wanted something. So they came up with the idea for a statue, with some kind of text under it. Peeta and I had no saying this time – this would be done.

"You're still stalling," he smiled knowingly and I got up from my seat. He was right, I was stalling. I still didn't know how to tell Peeta about the pregnancy. But it was dark outside, and I had been here for hours. He was probably asleep already. Or at least getting there.

I pulled on my father's hunting jacket and turned around to look at Haymitch to say my goodnight.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"This might get ugly, so don't come back for a few days. Or weeks."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I said again, this time over my shoulder as I walked through his front door. It might get ugly, but he wasn't alone in this. I would do everything I could to help him through this. And I knew that Peeta would too. Haymitch kept us alive when no one else could. I owed him at least this. And he was family after all.

A part of me wished that Peeta would be asleep, the other part wishing him to be awake, as I found my way home through the snow. I shook the snow off my jacket and hair as I walked up the stairs, opening the door as quietly as I could. But it was dark inside, and I knew that he was asleep. I kept quiet as I walked through every room, finding Peeta on the bed where I knew that he would be. He had been working hard all day, and he looked so tired at dinner. I wanted to let him sleep, but right now I had some courage. I had to tell him now, or he might figure it out himself. And Haymitch was right. I had to tell him. He deserved to hear it from me.

But there was no response when I gave him a light shake. So I sat down beside him and watched his bare back rise with every breath he took. I could see the faint scars on his skin, but they didn't make me feel as bad as they used to. We both had them after all. Those scars made me love him more, because they proved just how strong he was. How strong he had always been.

Peeta would love this baby, I knew that. And if he had to, he'd love it for the both of us. Keep it safe for the both of us. If I failed this baby, Peeta would be right there to take care if it. Spoil it. Love it. Keep it safe and warm.

I pressed my cold fingers against his back, shaking him again. This time a little harder.

"Peeta?" I asked, and he murmured something I couldn't fully hear, his voice deep with sleep. "Peeta?"

"Katniss?"

I tried to think of a way to tell him, but all I could hear in my head was Haymitch's stupid comment.

"I have a bun in the oven," I told him, prepared for his reaction. But there wasn't any. He was too tired to understand my reference.

"Then take it out," he mumbled. "How long has it been in there?"

"The doctor thinks about five weeks," I told him, fighting the urge to bit my lip. He would been awake enough to understand me soon.

"That's too long for a bun," he told me, and after a few seconds I watched his relaxed body become rigid next to me. He got it. He understood now. He jolted up, sitting up with his torso turned my way. His eyes were boring into mine in the dark room. He looked confused. "Why is there a doctor involved?"

"Because we're not really talking about buns, Peeta." I bit my lip as he looked at me. He knew what I meant, but his tired brain needed me to actually say the words. That, or he just wanted to hear me say it. I couldn't be sure. "I'm pregnant. _We_ are."

I could see his conflicted feeling playing in his eyes, across his face. Joy for the baby, but worry for me.

"You can smile, I'm okay with this."

It took a second, but then his face broke into the most beautiful, heartwarming, genuine smiles I had ever seen on anyone. He looked so ridiculously happy, and it was hard not to smile with him. Hard not to smile when he was so happy. But my fears turned into tears, and Peeta kissed them away.

"It's okay," he whispered, his smile still broad. He started to kiss me where ever his lips could reach. "No reason to be afraid. I love you so much, Katniss."

"I know you do," I said, my voice shaky. I forced his lips away from my skin. I needed him to promise me something. "But I need you to love this baby more than you have ever loved me. Keep it safe. I'm scared – scared that I'll fail our baby. That I'll fail you, like I failed Prim. What if I screw up? What if I'm so messed up and broken that I can't love this baby, Peeta?"

My fears shamed me, and voicing them shamed me even more. What would he think of me, how could I even think such a thing? When I looked down, away from his beautiful face, Peeta grabbed my cheek in his hand and forced me to look at him. Forcing me to meet his blue, serious eyes.

"Hey, you did not fail your sister, and we're all messed up after what we went through. But you can't blame yourself for her death, Katniss. You can't. I won't allow it. I just hope that I don't have to tell you how much she loved you, how much she looked up to you. Listen to me – our baby is going to be loved. By both of us. And you, you're going to be the most fantastic mother."

He sounded so sure. How could he be so sure?

"How do you know?" My voice was low, almost broken, but he heard me.

"Because of Prim. How you never failed to put her first. Because of how fiercely you love her, and everyone else that has managed to win you over," he kissed me softly, wiping away my tears with his gentle thumb. "You won't be alone in this. _We_ won't be. So many will love this baby. So many will try to keep it safe if anything were ever to happen. Hell, Haymitch will be one of those people. He hated us, but he always managed to keep us alive. Now, he'll probably train his geese to attack. Effie will be annoying as usually, and Cinna, he's great with needles. You know how tough Johanna is, and Annie will scream the danger away. Then there's you and me. I can keep going, but I don't think I need to."

What Peeta said, it made sense. I had to admit that, even though I didn't want to. His words even washed away some of my fears. But I still needed him to make that promise to me.

"Just promise me," I whispered and he let out a sigh as his blue eyes penetrated mine.

"I can't promise to love this baby more than I love you, because that would be impossible. But I can promise to love you equally. Is that good enough?"

I thought about what he had always done to keep me safe. I thought about what he had been willing to sacrifice for me. I thought about how he always managed to make me feel loved, and I knew that even if he only loved our baby half of what he loved me, our baby would always feel warm, and safe, and loved. Our baby would be happy.

So I nodded and crept into his arms, burrowing my face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like bread and cookies, like he always did. That smell always managed to calm me down. As Peeta leaned against the headboard of the bed, his arms wrapped tighter around me and I could feel his steady heartbeat against my hand on his chest. It was almost as if I could hear it beat. It was my very favorite sound in the whole world. Well, that and his voice.

"Are you sure that you're okay with this?" he asked after a long moment of silence, his lips pressing softly against the top of my head.

"Underneath the fear, I think so, yes. I wasn't sure when I found out yesterday, but the more I think about it... It's a small child, and I don't want to do anything to hurt it. I want to keep it safe, no matter what. And if we had lived in a world with arenas and tributes and Snow, then no, I wouldn't be okay with it. I wouldn't want to bring a child into that kind of world."

But this world, where Peeta's arms always kept me safe and the worst fear within a parent was if their child would get hurt playing, then yes. There wasn't as much starvation anymore. No more hungry kids. At least not in our District. I tried to make sure of that. Peeta did too. We had enough to give away meat and bread to those who needed it the most. We had enough to help those in need.

But still, when I thought about it, my biggest fear of having children was from my Father. Seeing the aftermath of his death like that. How Mother crept into herself, how I had to take care of Prim. How it was like to grow up without parents. It wasn't something I'd want to give our child.

"We'll only tell a few people, right?" I asked then, wanting to know that Peeta was on my side. We had always felt the same about cameras and articles and our private lives, and we had to feel the same about this too.

"No more than a few," he agreed. "The rest will have to find out themselves. But it's going to be hard to keep it from Panem."

"I know," I said, snuggling against him. There was only a few months left until the ten year anniversary, and there would be cameras. Articles. They would definitely want interviews. They would probably like to see us out with the people. "I don't care if they see me when I'm pregnant, but our child will never see the lens of a camera."

Suddenly Peeta laughed, and I looked at him with questioning eyes. This wasn't funny. I was very much serious, he had to see that. Our baby wasn't a joke.

"I'm sorry," he apologized with a warm smile when he saw my glare. "Did you really think that you wouldn't grow to love this baby, when you clearly already do?"

"No, I don't," I argued with him. I knew what love felt like, and I couldn't feel such a thing toward our baby. Not yet. His smile grew wider as he leaned down to press a kiss against my nose.

"But you kinda do."

"No, I don't," I argued with him again and he laughed.

"We can argue about this all you want, but right now I'm too happy to care," his eyes wandered over my face, down over my chest, to my hips, my legs, and then he met my eyes again. His hands traced over my side, his fingers digging their way in under my shirt. A shiver ran through my body as his warm skin touched mine, and I forgot what I was about to say.

He knew that he had this effect on me, and he didn't fail to use it against me when I least wanted him to. He could distract me so easily, and I hated it. But another part of me loved it. Loved how easily I could do the same to him, make him feel the same as I felt when he looked at me the way he did now.

His hand grabbed the hem of my shirt as the other cupped my face, his lips moving in toward mine.

"You're wearing too much clothes," he whispered against my lips, and I could feel them brushing against mine as he spoke. I laughed, despite my previous mood, and gladly let his tongue into my mouth when it brushed over my lower lip, asking for permission, a few short moments later.


	9. Unexpected: Months of emotion

**This took forever to upload, and I'm so, so sorry. It also took forever to write. It's a long chapter, but that's not really why. And toward the end, you can tell that I just wanted to get it all out and uploaded. Sorry about that. **

**I have a month left in school, and it's chaos. I also just went through a surgery, so I'm in pain. But I will try to sit down and write the next chapter as soon as possible. No, I haven't even started yet. But I will try, I promise. For you, I'll do anything. Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you will enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>The next couple of weeks after my announcement to Peeta, Christmas and a new year passed, and we barely had the time to think about the pregnancy at all.<p>

We were too busy with Haymitch to spend much time one on one with the other at all, and we only really had a couple of hours every night together. Despite him being in the bakery all day, and me being in the woods, we always had the time to spend a lot of time together. Cook dinner, close the bakery, relax on the couch in each others arms. Always together.

Not now when we had to put most of our energy on Haymitch.

He had warned me that it would get ugly, and he was right. In the first few days, he still remembered that he had made the decision himself. He remembered why, and even though he was pissed, he was controllable since he still wanted it. Then he forgot, and things got harder. He put down more energy fighting us than fighting himself, and I started to spend less time in the woods and more time at Haymitch's place. Peeta opened the bakery later and closer earlier just to help me. But after a week, when Haymitch started to fight us, he wouldn't let me near him. Of course I didn't listen to him, but I did back away each time Haymitch threw a punch and I let Peeta handle it himself. It really wasn't that hard. With as little as Haymitch ate and drank, he was weak, and he missed most of his swings. And the few times he did hit Peeta, he was the one losing his balance.

Peeta never asked me why I knew about Haymitch decision to stop drinking, but it really wasn't that hard to figure out. He knew, but he never talked about it. So as Peeta avoided Haymitch fists and knifes, reminding him that there was no alcohol, I cleaned. Every day there seemed to be more than the day before, and I couldn't understand why. Haymitch really didn't do all that much.

After about two weeks, things turned around. They started to get better. Haymitch screamed and cursed less each day, and the punches didn't come as often. When they did come though, there was more force behind them than before, and more than once did I have to put something cold against Peeta's jaw. He always assured me that he was fine, but he always let me take care of him. Putting the icepack against his jaw a few nights that week was as close as I would ever come to a descent healer. That was the first time in a long time that I truly did miss my Mother. I had everything here. Peeta, my friends and the few people that I would always call family. They were all here with me, and I loved them. I needed them. But despite the fact that we had a good healer in our District, she would never be as good as my Mother. Never be as good as Prim could have been.

And that's why I called her. I didn't know first thing about what would happen when alcohol left a man's body after running in his blood for so many years, and I hoped that my Mother could help. She couldn't, at least not much. She told me to keep doing what we were doing. And then, when she asked why Haymitch had suddenly decided to become sober once and for all, I lied. I told her I didn't know. Maybe he was just tired of it.

I'm not entirely sure why I lied to her. I could just tell her that I was pregnant, she would find out eventually anyway. But somehow, I felt like she didn't deserve to know just yet. I knew that if Prim had been alive, she would have been the first to know. Long before Haymitch and Peeta. She would have been the one I would have asked for advice. But she wasn't here, and neither was my Mother.

But, because of Haymitch, neither Peeta or I truly had the time to ever talk about the pregnancy. Or even think about it much. Not until the nausea struck me in the ninth week.

It came from no where. One second I was finishing up Haymitch's dishes, and the next I had my head hanging over his sink. I don't know where Peeta came from, but he was by my side as soon as I had finished, his hand stroking my back. He was worried. I could feel it in his movements, and I could see it in his blue eyes as soon as I met them.

"You okay?" he whispered, his voice soft, and I nodded as I let the water run down the sink. I actually was. The nausea disappeared as soon as it came, and despite the sour taste in my mouth, I felt okay. Peeta handed me a glass of water, and I took it as Haymitch spoke. He was aware enough to comment, aware enough to care, but he didn't leave his spot on the couch.

"I thought they called it _morning_ sickness."

Things didn't really get any easier after that. Haymitch was doing fine though, and eventually he even started to clean on his own. But Peeta and I continued to cook him dinner, and he came over every night. Effie and Cinna joined him sometimes. Apparently, the atmosphere between a sober Haymitch and Effie was a good one. She would comment on his manners, but that was pretty much it. They had long conversations without arguing, and Peeta and I always watched in amusement.

But as Haymitch got better, I could return to the woods. In the weeks that we had taken care of him, I hadn't been able to catch much game. Just a few rabbits each day in the snares I set up. I never had to use my bow, and I missed it. But the first Sunday I spent in the woods realization struck me. I wouldn't be able to do this much longer. I would probably start showing soon, and I was surprised even now that Peeta still let me out into the woods. When I started to show, people would know. And as I would grow fatter, I wouldn't be able to do this anymore. I had seen pregnant women walk over the District all my life. Their wobbly walks, how they always had difficulties with bending down to get something they dropped, how they always seemed to have a back ache.

As a hunter, I needed to be smooth in my movements. I had to squat down, I had to move on fast, quiet feet, I had to climb trees. I wouldn't be able to do that with a big, fat stomach blocking the view of my feet.

And as I cleaned my game that day, before heading back home, the smell of blood hit my nose and I had to fight the urge to throw up right there and then.

After that, I always brought the game back home after I had killed it. I didn't clean it. Rooba cleaned her parts, and the animals I brought home for dinner... Well, Peeta had to learn how to clean a game. I gave him the directions on how to do it, standing safely in another room where I couldn't feel the smell. He laughed at me the entire time, and I fought the urge to walk in there and take the knife from him and just do it myself. But I knew that I would just throw up, so I settled with a glare as soon as he had washed away all the blood and proudly showed me the cleaned meet. I had to agree with the fact that he did a good job. Not as good as a skilled hunter, but it was his first time. He would learn.

But I had to wonder. When the time came, and Peeta wouldn't let me out into the woods again, when I couldn't go out there, then who would I be? For as long as I could remember, I had always been a huntress. It was who I was. It's where I came alive, and the woods had always been my second home. It would always be my second home. So who would I be if I couldn't go out and hunt, and do what I had done every day for the biggest part of my life? What would happen to me?

The following Sunday, we invited Haymitch, Effie and Cinna over for dinner. We did that almost every Sunday. I loved Sundays because of that. Because Sundays meant coming home from the woods, cooking dinner for more people than just Peeta and me, and it meant having to spend the night with my family. How could I not love it.

"Have you heard about the bear?" Effie asked in a matter-of-fact voice in the middle of dinner, and my head popped up to look at her.

"What bear?"

"Oh, someone saw a bear the other day. Apparently it was pretty close to the fence, but it's probably nothing. You know how people talk, Katniss."

I was on my feet as soon as she mentioned that it was close to the fence, and Peeta knew exactly what I was thinking so he jumped to his feet and grabbed my wrist.

"You're not going out there," he said gently, his eyes boring into mine.

"Yes, I am."

"Katniss, please," he started but I cut him off.

"It was close to the fence! It's not like when we grew up; there's kids out there. _Playing_."

"I can't stop you, I know that, but I don't want you to go out there." The hidden words in his meaning was obvious, and he would have mentioned it if we hadn't had company. We weren't going to tell them just yet, not until I started to show. "Hell, can't you at least wait until tomorrow?"

"Peeta, language," I heard Effie's voice bark from behind us and the corner of my mouth twitched despite the fact that I didn't want them to. His voice could be a lot dirtier than that, and the first time I heard it, I was shocked. Peeta wasn't one to curse. Or so I thought. In our most private of moments, I silently begged for those words to leave his mouth, and just thinking about it left a shiver down my spine.

I shook the thoughts away, and continued to look into Peeta's eyes. He was worried.

"Why are you worried?"

"It's a bear," he stated, "the last time you faced one..."

"I was a child!" I finished for him. "I'm the only one who can do this, and I'm going out there, like it or not."

"I don't like it, but you're not the only one who can do this."

"Who else?" I scoffed. He knew I was the only one who dared to go outside the fence when it was still forbidden. And it hadn't been allowed long enough for someone to be old enough, skilled enough, to reach up to my limit. But there was no one out there. Everyone knew I was the one to who hunted. Everyone relied on me to deliver their meat to them. Everyone knew I was the only one who really could.

"There's Gale."

"Gale?" I asked disbelievingly. "He lives in Two, remember? He probably hasn't been hunting for years, and even if he had, it would take _days_ for him to come here. If he _wanted_ to. And why would he? I'm doing this alone, it's the only way."

"With a hovercraft, he'd be here tomorrow night. If the bear just so happens to walk in your trail, then fine, shoot it. But you're not doing this alone."

"Then you come with me!"

I realized that we were halfway into an argument about this, but none of us cared about our audience.

"Have you _met_ me?" he asked. Crossing his arms over his chest and I almost rolled my eyes. This was no time for that. But yeah, he was right. He couldn't do this. But he was also right about Gale. And maybe a part of me wanted to see him again. Fall into the familiar patterns of hunting with him again. Maybe I wanted to have a hunting partner again. The woods could be lonely sometimes.

"Why do you want Gale anyway?

"Because I knew he'd still risk his life for yours. So I'm calling him."

"It would be easier if you'd just let me do this alone," I stated, knowing that I was right. If I did this alone, I could leave early tomorrow morning. Follow its trail, and capture it before night. It would be dead before the sun would set.

"I'm not, and you very well know why," he stated and his lips pressed against mine for a second. "I need you safe. Both of you."

His words were whispered, meant only for me, but the others heard them. I heard Effie mumble something to Haymitch and Cinna.

"He's not talking about Gale, airhead," Haymitch answered her and I looked at him. He looked smug. He had known all along, and he knew that we would tell the rest soon. He probably figured that soon was now.

"Then who?" Effie turned to Peeta now, but his eyes were still looking into mine. We were having a very silent, very private conversation. We had to tell them now, they would have it figured out already. On the look on Cinna's face, he already had. Haymitch still looked smug and all-knowing.

"I'll call him," I promised Peeta and laid my hand on his chest. He nodded in approval and pressed another kiss against my lips. "I think we have some explaining to do first."

And so we told them. After the hugs and the congratulations, Peeta cornered Effie and made her promise not to tell anyone. No one was supposed to know. He used the voice he only really used when he wanted people to know just how serious he was, and she nodded in an answer.

Gale arrived the following night, and he was still as good of a hunter as he had always been. Even though it only took us a day to track down the bear and have it killed, it was nice to hunt with him again. To sit in silence with him again, the way we always sat when we waited for a game to appear. He didn't ask why I let him clean the bear himself, and why I insisted on getting help just then. We couldn't carry this beast alone, and he knew we needed the help. So he didn't ask questions as I left. But I think he knew. I think he understood, but if he knew, then he also knew why I didn't tell him. He knew that I'd tell him when I was ready. And I wasn't just yet.

As February ended and March rolled in it was still cold outside, and it was easy to hide my growing stomach underneath all the clothes. Therefore, it was still easy to keep it a secret. Well, a secret between five people. Peeta would unconsciously let his hand gently slide over my small bump several times a day, and I liked his hand resting on my stomach every night as we slept. Just that little thing showed me that he already loved this baby, and that he would become a great father to our child. I still wasn't so sure about me. But I never brought it up, and neither did he.

But it got worse with the first kick. I knew that there was a baby growing inside me, but feeling it move made it so much more real. I suddenly knew that as long as this baby was inside me, I was the only one who could keep it safe. I was supposed to take care of it, alone. And because of that realization, my fears of failing only grew. Every night I'd wake up from a new nightmare. In every dream, my baby was taken from me in a new way, and I couldn't describe the way I felt each night in the dream. Each night after waking up. The dreams made me feel hollow in a way I had only felt after Prim's death. It resembled the feeling I would have after waking up from a dream where Peeta was taken from me. The dreams and the unbearable feeling made me realize that maybe Peeta was right. Maybe I did love this baby.

As April came I had stopped hunting altogether. My stomach never stopped growing, and the walk I hiked each day was getting harder and harder. So I stopped, and I forced Peeta to teach me how to bake. I had to do something, and so each day I helped him out in the bakery. I wasn't very good at it, but he never complained. Always said I did a good job, but the lie was obvious. So he told me to try frosting, but I refused. I would never be good at frosting. So what I did instead was to write down each recipe in a book. He had them all in his head, some scribbled onto papers he never used. So I wrote down what he told me, and I wrote down what I read, and I made a book about it. It allowed to me keep my hands busy as well as spending time with Peeta every day.

On my birthday I woke up from another bad dream, this one really bad, and I decided to just stay in bed all day. It was a Friday, and since I didn't hunt anymore, what else was there to do? And I really didn't feel like moving. Despite my arguing, Peeta closed the bakery and stayed in bed with me all day. The only exception was when he walked downstairs to get my cake. It was beautiful, one of the most beautiful cakes he'd ever made, despite how simple it was. He laughed at me when I ate most of it on my own, but still claimed to be hungry, so he made me lunch after that. I also had to run to the bathroom quite a lot, but other than that, the entire day was spent in his arms.

As May ended and June came, walking in stairs became quite a challenge because of my growing stomach, and Peeta often carried me down to the bakery on the days I felt like being there. But it was the beginning of summer, and the weather was hot, so the bakery was slow. The first year it happened, I was worried. There had always been so many buyers, but Peeta assured me that June had always been a slow month. Business started to kick in again in the middle of July or beginning of August, and this year seemed to be no difference. Peeta had sent Rory home, the best help he had ever found, and we were alone, just the two of us. His hands, covered in flour despite the fact that he just cleaned up, ran over my side and his lips pressed against my hot neck. He could feel my body become rigid, and he let out a sigh but his hands continued to trace over my skin.

"I miss you," his voice was almost pleading, and I hated it. But my fat, ugly body didn't deserve his gentle hands on it. There hadn't been much of anything lately, not since my birthday, and in the last few weeks I had barely let him kiss me the way he used too.

I felt horrible. My body was big and horrible and in the way all the time. He deserved better, he deserved beautiful. And right now, I couldn't give him that. How were we supposed to put up with this until late August?

The fear of giving birth became bigger every day. It wasn't the pain I was worried about, but what would happen after that. I would be a Mother. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't protect my baby anymore. I realized now that I did love my baby, even though the love wasn't as strong as it had always been for Prim, but it was love. And I wanted to protect my baby. And I knew that as long as the baby was inside of me, nothing bad could happen. But it couldn't be inside of me for the rest of my life. And that scared me.

"I know," I whispered to him, and I could feel his hand run over my stomach, up toward my breasts. But just then we heard the bell ring, indicating a guest, and Peeta removed his hand from under my shirt, letting out an audible sigh. He pressed a quick kiss against the side of my jaw before he left to welcome his potential buyer. I could hear laughter, his and a woman's, and I tried to fight the urge to go out there. But I did, and noticed that the woman he was talking to was clearly not from our District. She was young, beautiful, and she kept tossing her hair. She was clearly flirting, and Peeta laughed with her. He laughed, and it was warm and genuine. But I did not have the right to be jealous. Not after the way I had been treating him lately. It was my own fault if he searched intimacy somewhere else. But I knew that he wouldn't. Never. Which is why I hated the fact that I was jealous.

He was always kinds to guests, always joked with them, always laughed with them. Smiled. But she knew better. Everyone in all of Panem knows who Peeta Mellark is. They know how he looks like. They know that he's married to Katniss Everdeen, the Mockingjay. She knew that I could take her out in a second. Granted, she didn't know that I was pregnant, but she did not stop even when she saw me. It was annoying, and I hated her. I hated her for flirting with my husband. So I did the only thing I could. I walked up to them, wrapping my arms around Peeta's waist, and then pulled him into a kiss. She had to know that he was mine, and I was his. Nothing else was acceptable.

Peeta was clearly surprised with how deep the kiss was, but he kissed me back. Just for a short second though, before he leaned out and I saw confusion in his eyes.

"I'm going to Haymitch's," I told him, and he clearly heard the lie in my voice. I stalked off before he could say anything, but I stopped in the bakery. I could hear their voices, and from the sound of it, he was selling her bread. And cakes. I sat down and crossed my arms over my chest, and when Peeta came back into the bakery he looked at me. And then he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard it nearly made him cry, and it only made me more irritated. Why the hell was he laughing? This wasn't funny.

"You're jealous," he choked out and only laughed more when I told him I wasn't. "I can't believe you're jealous."

He had calmed down a little bit by the time I spoke, but the amused smile never left his lips. "She was flirting with you. And she was pretty and young and she made you laugh."

"You thought I was going to run off with her, and kiss her in the moonlight," he said, barely holding it together. I knew he was only saying that to get a reaction out of me, and he succeded.

"I'm not jealous," I said, having some difficulties with getting up from the chair, which only made him laugh harder.

"You know that I only go for women with grumpy looks and braids."

"I'm not grumpy," I stated and he shook his head in amusement. "Dinner will be ready in an hour."

"Okay," he told me, kissing me on the cheek before I turned around. "And Katniss? Don't get jealous of all the bread I'm going to spend the next hour with."

"Shut up," I tossed the closest thing I could find toward him, which just happened to be a towel, and I missed. Which only caused him to laugh even more. Even upstairs, standing in the kitchen could I hear him laughing, and I smiled to myself. Yeah, maybe I was jealous. I knew that Peeta would never do anything to hurt me, so I knew that I was only jealous because I myself missed the intimacy we used to have. That kiss felt good. More than that. But I felt disgusted just imagining his body against mine, his lips against mine, his moans mixing with my own. The way I felt about myself right now, it needed to stop. I needed to be a wife, a woman, again. I needed to be myself again. I just didn't know how.

On the day that used to be referred as Reaping Day, still was among those who remembered those days, was bound to be horrible. It was every year. But this year, it would be as public as it used to be. As the ten year anniversary of the rebellion was this year, someone had come up with the brilliant idea to put the celebration of the past on Reaping Day. It would not surprise me if it was Plurtach.

And so Peeta and I were put on a train heading to The Capitol. We didn't want to, but we had been told to. The Capitol was still The Capitol, and even though I liked Paylor, this was an order we could not hide from. Maybe I would have been okay with it under different circumstances, but Panem did not yet know that Peeta and I were having a baby. We had been able to hide it well, better than I thought. The whole of District Twelve knew, but no one had spoken up. Maybe they thought we wanted privacy, and we did. Most of Twelve were old friends anyway. The only people outside of Twelve that knew were Johanna, Annie, and my Mother. I had yet to tell Gale, but he would find out soon enough. The unveiling of the statue of me and Peeta was public, and everyone was told to watch. We were supposed to hold a speech. Peeta didn't have to ask to know that I wanted him to deal with the speech part. He was good with words. Haymitch came along with us, mumbled something that it was his duty as a Victory and from being a part of the rebellion. I think it mostly was because of me. Because he had always been smart, and impulsive. If something happened, if something paralleled out of control, he could handle it. Like he had so many times before.

Peeta was right, he still wanted to keep us safe. Our baby too. And simply the fact that Haymitch was sober now would draw some attention from us to him.

"I wish we could hide this," Peeta murmured before we walked up on stage. There would be cameras, there would be reporters. This was live television.

"I do too," I squeezed his hand, wishing that he could take me away from here and back to the safety of Twelve. Like so many times before, I wished I could be out in the silence of the woods. But that wasn't possible.

Even though Cinna had designed our clothes, I knew that the crowd didn't go dead silence because of that when they saw us walk out on stage after being introduced by Effie, in all her Capitol glory. She had asked to do it, but I don't know why. She had already introduced Haymitch, and the rest of the Victors. Annie wasn't here, and neither was Noah. I knew why. She didn't want to expose him to the world when it was like this. I knew, because I didn't want the same to happen to my baby. But I had to. I was the Mockingjay, or at least I was to the people of Panem. To those around me, I was just Katniss Everdeen, the girl from the Seam who married the baker's son. To Cinna, and to others, I would always be the girl on fire. But to me and to Peeta, I was just Katniss Mellark. But today I had to step up and be the Mockingjay, even to us. To everyone.

The crowd was still silent as Effie introduced Paylor and Plurtach. He was supposed to unveil the statue. The crowd was still silent as he did, and I could feel more eyes on me than what should be. They should be looking at the statue, like the rest of us did. Peeta and I hadn't really been told about it, just that they would rise a statue in our name. But it wasn't just in our name. It reminded me a lot of when we were introduced as a team for the first time, but without the fire. We looked older, but our hands were intertwined, just like ours were now. I had my signature braid, a very detailed one despite the fact that it was made out of stone. Peeta was looking down on me, and even in his stone eyes could you see the love he had for me. The statue was beautiful, everyone could see that. It captured us, everyone could see that too. Or at least how they thought we were. We knew better, we knew the whole story. We had been the star-crossed lovers for a long time, but the love had also been one-sided for a long time, no matter what the sign said. "To the star-crossed lovers of District 12, for showing Panem what love is, and for reminding us that it can conquer all. Thank you for your endless determination, spirit and courage – it inspired us to live."

Reading the sign made my eyes teary, and I was thankful for the fact that I could just blame it on hormones. I did that a lot these days, but Peeta always saw through me. I hoped that Panem wouldn't.

"I love you," Peeta whispered to my ears only and I leaned into his side, allowing his arms to wrap around me.

The reporters wanted questions to be answered, and most of them were about us. Some were to Hamitch, and some to Johanna and Beetee. But Peeta was the one who answered most of the questions as I stood beside him, never letting go of his hand. But when one of the reporters asked why we had waited so long to have a baby, he wasn't sure what to answer. We had prepared for every question imaginable, but not this one. I don't know why, and from the look on Peeta's face, he hadn't thought of this one either. So I took a step forward, and gently pushed Peeta out of the way. I could answer this one. Panem had been told so many lies about us, and they deserved this truth. I knew that a lot of people thought of me as cold, despite what I had done for Prim and the country. And I didn't care. I knew I was cold and hostile to people I didn't know – it was just who I was. But those who loved me, and those who I loved, they deserved something better. I was always my best with those I loved. Especially Peeta. He always saw me for who I was. Always had, always would.

"Peeta and I grew up under very different circumstances, and because of that we grew up wanting different things. We grew up very different people. At one point in my life, I lived in a bubble and I wanted it all. A big family, kids, everything. Then reality hit, and I promised myself that I'd never put a child into this world. But the world as I knew it has changed, and maybe it's not perfect. But it's better. And maybe, despite everything, it's okay to bring a small, defenseless child into this world. It just took me a long, long time to realize that."

An early morning in the beginning of August, Peeta found me on the couch in my old Victory house, watching the tapes from our first arena. It was the first time I saw it since it actually happened.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he asked and I paused the tape, not letting my eyes wonder from the television. The truth was that I dreamed that we were still there, and I couldn't shake it even after wakening. So I dug and found the old tapes, wanting to watch them again. I knew it would hurt, but I felt like I had to. I could remember everything so clearly, so vividly, and it hurt. Seeing Rue and seeing Marvel killing her. How I sang to her, and how I found Peeta on that river bed. It all hurt. Especially all the questions that were building up inside me.

"How are we supposed to tell her?" I asked, stroking my hand over my stomach as I turned to look at him. He sat down beside me, and raised one of his eyebrows.

"Her?"

"It's just a feeling," I explained and he let out a sigh as he placed his hand above mine.

"We'll figure it out."

"But I don't want our baby to know that kind of pain, to know what parts we played in the war. I don't want our baby to know what happened to us. But I want our baby to know about Prim and Rue and Finnick and Boggs and everyone else, and what courage they had, and it's all so _conflicting_."

"We'll figure it out," he murmured again and I felt myself nod. I moved Peeta's hand a little bit to the left so that he could feel the same movement I felt inside me. I remembered all to well the fear and terror I felt the first time I felt my baby kick, and as if Peeta could read my thoughts, he said, "We'll be fine."

I glanced toward the television again, and Peeta's eyes wandered with mine.

"If you hadn't had those berries, would you have done it?" he asked suddenly and even though I knew what he meant, the question took me a back. What a stupid question.

"There's no such thing," I said firmly and he met my eyes.

"How do you know?"

"Because if I would have walked out of that arena alone, I would be stuck there, trying desperately to get both of us out. And if I found a way, I would just feel even worse because I didn't succeed in the first place. So no, and don't ever ask me that question again."

His smile was genuine as he rose from the couch, dragging me up with him. "I want to show you something," he claimed, leading me back home. He walked patiently behind me as I wobbled up the stairs and then he stopped us outside the room that would belong to our baby. Without knowing why I did it, I placed my hand on the closed door and looked at him.

"You're done?" I asked, and his smile gave me his answer. He had been working on painting the nursery for months now, only being able to be in there a few hours every week. He had told me not to go in there, and despite how much I wanted to see how it looked like, I wanted to see the finished product more, and so I waited. It wasn't patiently, but at least I waited. And now it was done.

He turned the doorknob and as he pushed the door open, I took a step inside and looked around in awe. It was beautiful and so colorful, and it was perfect. He had painted all of our favorite places in the world on each wall, somehow managing to blend them perfectly together. The wall facing the door was the lake, a place that I now shared with Peeta. It was _our_ place, and I knew that we'd bring our child there in the future. Every detail was perfect and I could almost hear the sound of the water and feel the smell of the flowers just looking at it. On the right wall was the deep blue ocean meeting a sun setting in the horizon, a figure fishing in the water. The left wall held the meadow, primroses covering the ground and mockingjays singing in the trees. A perfect rainbow filled the image with its beautiful colors.

They were all featured there in the paintings, the spirits of all the people that I loved. My Father in the lake, Finnick in the ocean and Rue and my sister in the Meadow. But where were the people that Peeta loved, where was his family?

"They're there," he promised me, wrapping his arms around his waist. I turned him against the fourth wall, and I didn't have to say anything. He knew that I wanted to know why he had left the wall white. "It's for the memories we'll make together, the three of us."

I turned around in his embrace, my lips searching for the familiar feeling of his. I hadn't felt them for real for so long, and as the hunger rose inside me, my lips moved harder and fiercer against his. He didn't hesitate to kiss me back, his tongue sliding into my mouth as he pressed me up against the white wall. Our breathings became louder with every breath we took, his body pressing closer against mine as his lips never failed to lose contact with my own. My arms locked around his neck, my fingers twisting with his thick, blonde hair as his hands felt like fire against my skin.

I had missed this. More than I had realized. I _needed_ this just as much as he did. I needed him in this way just as much as I needed us to be like this again.

As his lips left mine to explore my waiting skin, my mouth formed his name in a moan and I could feel his hot breath against my neck.

"Honey, I'm home!" we heard Johanna's sarcastic voice from downstairs then and I could feel Peeta's body slumping against mine as I surrendered against him.

"I'll kill her," we muttered together, causing us to laugh after a moment. "We'll find some time alone tonight. Somehow," I promised and he placed a gentle kiss against my lips. We had guests to accompany.

We knew that both Johanna and my Mother would come in with the train today, but we must have lost track of time since her voice surprised us. Johanna would stay for just a week, but my Mother would stay until the baby was born.

The Healer we had in our District was good, and I would settle for her delivering our child. But Peeta had such bad dreams, and the only thing that would eventually calm him down was the idea of my Mother's healing hands. When he told me that, I knew that he was just as scared as I was. And he always helped me get through my fear, so I had to help him. My Mother wouldn't agree at first, she claimed that it would hurt too much, bring back too many painful memories of my Father and of Prim, but she eventually said yes. But not until after Peeta himself talked to her. Until he explained his dreams and fears and that he needed her to be there for the birth of our baby. When that almost didn't work, he played the grandmother card. It worked, and now she was here to stay. At least for a few weeks.

I had nine months to prepare and get ready, and in a way I was. Or at least I thought so. As the time came, I was still just as terrified and unprepared as I always had been. But there was no way out. Peeta and I, we were going to have a baby. We were going to be parents. I was going to be a Mother. The sudden pain radiating from my stomach, waking me up one hot August night was more than enough proof of that.


	10. Unexpected: Expected

**As you will surely notice, this is written in Peeta's POV and I'm sure it won't be the last one even though I have no current plans to write more in his POV. It's fun though. As you will also notice, this chapter is kind of short. But basically, this is the third part of a plot. I hope you will enjoy this, and that you'll review. I'd be happy if you'd send me some requests, because right now I'm not really insipired. **

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><p>On a normal day I'd wake up right after the sun would rise, some days from a nightmare and some days because I knew that it was time to get up and move around. I'd open the bakery as people started to move around the streets, and I'd spend the hours up until lunch alone. Rory would be around then to help, and I could look out the window more frequently to see who would walk around the corner and into the shop. I could look out the window more frequently to catch a glimpse of Katniss as she'd come home, very often food for dinner in her hands. And then when she'd see me, the hint of a tired smile would appear on her face.<p>

Lately there had been a lot of tired complains from her side, but I knew I had nothing to say about it. We were in this together, but I was not in her position. I did have fears, and we shared some of them, but hers went deeper than mine for good reasons.

Normally, I'd wake up around the time a beautiful bright color would light up over District 12.

This was not a normal day, and I had been awake for far too long. 27 hours to be precise. But again, I could not complain. I wasn't the one in pain at the moment.

At the moment I couldn't even remember half of the fights Katniss and I had had over the years, and how many of them had been about this. She knew I had always wanted this. I grew up being as happy as I could. I had two older brothers, and even though we fought about most things, they were my brothers. My family. My Father was the best of men. And even though my Mother seemed cold and heartless to some people, she wasn't. Yes, maybe she hit both me and my brothers from time to time, but that's just the way she handled things. We were used to it.

Katniss grew up different and her fears had deep roots. She grew up in the Seam, and even though her mother was the best of Healers and her father worked in the mines, they struggled. I didn't even want to think about what would have happened if her father hadn't been a hunter. If he hadn't taught his oldest daughter what he knew.

I knew that if I had grown up like her – poorer than most, starved, fatherless – I probably would have the exact same fears as she did. Which is why I couldn't fight with her about this. It's why I accepted it, why I doubted her when she told me she wanted this. I _needed_ her to be _sure_.

But when she told me about the pregnancy, I was just as scared as she was. For the same reasons as she was. It was inevitable. But as the months passed, we learned to tackle our fears just as we always tackled everything. Together.

And now here we were, and it was taking too damn long. How could it take 27 hours to push a little baby out? It couldn't take this long. The amount of time that had passed, it couldn't be normal.

It would be easier if I was actually in there with her, I knew that. But I wasn't. She kicked me out hours ago. And out here I was alone. Haymitch left after sunset, and Cinna wasn't even in the district at the moment. Effie didn't even know about this yet.

It was just me, and it was killing me. It was in my nature to make sure that she was okay, that she was fine, and right now she wasn't. I could hear that clearly from the sounds that came from the other room. And all I wanted was to be in there, hold her hand, whisper soothing words to her. But I couldn't. She didn't want me in there, and I knew why. It's just who she was. It's what I admired about her. But sometimes I hated it too. Right now I really did hate it. But the least I could do was to accept it.

Haymitch showed up after some time, about an hour before the sun started to rise, and he claimed that he couldn't sleep because of the screams. I knew that wasn't the case, because he lived far too long from the bakery, but I decided not to note it. He had his reasons of lying – he didn't want us to know how much he really did care about us.

"They're different now, the screams," I muttered to a reply instead, and he sat down next to me. It was the truth. They sounded more painful now. It must have started for real now. "How stupidly long can this take anyway?"

"She kick you out?" he understood from my frustration, and I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. He started to laugh then and I tried to ignore him. "Why?"

"Blamed me for putting her in this position," I started and Haymitch started to laugh even more. "Oh, and apparently I'm '_a man, and can't understand what she's going through'."_

"True."

"Shut up."

And he did, at least for a while. It couldn't even be ten minutes later that he spoke up, frustration deep in his voice.

"I need a drink," he claimed and I looked at him. "Hey, I said I needed one, not that I'd take one."

I have to admit that it surprised me when Katniss told me that he had decided to stop drinking. It came from nowhere. I couldn't understand why. At least not until I came over there, and saw the looks he gave her. It when I realized that she had talked to him before she talked to me. I also remembered the shame, worry and fear in her eyes the night she told me, and I understood that maybe she needed to tell someone before she told me. She was scared of my reaction. She needed someone to practice on. It wasn't the first time, and I shouldn't be surprised. When she wasn't sure about my reaction, she tended to turn to Haymitch for advice first. She always had, and maybe she always would. It was a part of her fears, and I had learned to accept it.

Haymitch had been sober for months now, and improvements to his physique was noticeable almost every time I saw him. It was still strange to see him like this, since I grew up with him being the town's drunk. I was shocked at how well he had adjusted to his new life, and I was sure that the feeling would never quite grow away. Just like I would always go to bed in awe over how good life turned out, despite everything that had happened and despite how hard it could be on some days.

"I bet that when all of that," Haymitch started, motioning his hands toward the door in front of us, clearly indicating on whatever was going on in there, "is over, you'll forget all about not having two legs."

I knew that he was probably right, as I did not even think about it now. I took it off a few hours ago, after Katniss threw me out of the room, since the area right below my knee was sore. It didn't matter that Beetee had designed me a new and improved leg years ago – when I wore it for too long, or when my leg got wet or cold while wearing the prosthetic, it would hurt. Not bad, more like a soft throbbing in my leg that wouldn't stop until I did something about it. So I always made sure to take it off when I didn't need it. And right now, sitting on a chair waiting for the news that my wife was done giving birth to our child, I didn't need it.

"What's the price?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest as I looked at him. It was good that Haymitch was here. It kept me from thinking about the things I didn't want to think about. Like how wrong things could get. We both knew that the safest was to be in a Capitol hospital, surrounded by doctors, but none of us wanted that. It didn't matter how much we liked Paylor, and it didn't matter that she was a really good President. The Capitol had broken us far too much, and parts of us would always hate it. Always distrust it.

And this is how both of us was born. This is how children all over Panem was born every day. And Mrs. Everdeen was the best. She's the only one I really trusted with this.

"A dinner," Haymitch suggested and I let out a laugh. He really trusted his opinion, that I'd stand up and fall down again, because he knew that he had no idea how to cook. He also knew that he was more than welcome every day for dinner. He also showed up almost every day, even though we only really invited him on Sundays along with Effie and Cinna.

So I shook my head in amusement as I took his hand to shake, and we uttered the word in unison. "Deal."

I was just ready to let go of his hand when I heard it. Katniss let out another scream, this one so tired and exhausted, and as she grew silent, another sound filled the house. Another scream, this one new and louder. Unmistakeably, it belonged to a baby. And not just a baby. My baby. I had a baby. I had a child now, I was a father. And Katniss, she was a mother and this was unbelievable. I had a baby – _that's my baby in there. _Screaming. Existing and screaming and I needed to see my baby.

So I got up, and half a second later my face touched the ground and Haymitch's laughter filled the room. But I didn't care that he was right, that he won this bet. All I cared about was what was in that room just a few meters away from me.

Just about ready to lift myself up, the door opened and Mrs. Everdeen looked down on me. It was clear that she was wondering what I was doing on the floor, but the emotion in my eyes must be even more obvious because she gave me a smile and told me exactly what I wanted to hear.

"You have a daughter."

Pushing myself up, I easily jumped to my feet and to the door frame.

"I'll give you some privacy."

"Thank you," I smiled back but I didn't watch my mother-in-law walk away. Instead I pulled myself closer to the door and looked inside the room only to see my very exhausted wife in our bed. Even in her small frame did the bundle look tiny, and I felt my smile grew wider as I watched Katniss try to soothe the baby in her arms with a tired smile on her lips. My daughter. _Our_ daughter.

I was sure that she knew that I stood where I stood, but she paid no attention to me, her eyes never leaving the tiny body in her embrace. Moving toward her, I pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, my body immediately reaching toward my wife and child. One of my hands rested on Katniss' shoulder as my other wrapped around Katniss' arms and the baby in them.

There was barely any hair on her tiny head, and her eyes were closed as she yawned, showing tiny dimples in the corner of her mouth. Just as I tried to figure out who her nose and chin belonged to, she showed me her two beautiful blue eyes and my head leaned down to rest against Katniss.

"She's beautiful," I murmured, the words leaving my mouth without me even planning them. But they were the truth, and everyone knew it.

"She reminds me of Prim," Katniss answered in a low whisper and my eyes turned from our daughter to her. Even though our baby looked nothing like her sister, I could understand why she felt like that. Prim had always held an innocence, her eyes radiating it clearly. I saw that in our daughter too. And I knew for a fact that Prim was the only one Katniss had never been scared of loving, because it came naturally for her. She never had a choice when it came to her. It was the same with her baby, her daughter. Of course she reminded her of her sister. It would be strange if she didn't.

"I'm sorry," she uttered then, her eyes meeting mine for the first time since I entered the room.

"Don't be ridiculous," I told her, waving it off. She didn't have to be sorry for kicking me out of the room. Or for yelling certain things at me. Things I had already forgotten what they were. They weren't pleasant, but that's all I could remember. She had been in pain, of course she said what she said. I could understand that more than enough. It actually kind of amused me.

"Thank you," she whispered then, a tear rolling down her chin. I reached to wipe it away with my thumb, and I felt my smile grow softer.

"For what?"

"For believing in me, for always being there, for loving me."

"You say that like I actually have a choice," I told her honestly and I could taste her salt tears as she pressed her lips against mine in a deep kiss.

"Is it wrong of me to feel that maybe, just maybe, this moment was worth everything?" she said in a tired voice as she let go of the kiss, her voice filled with shame and worry.

"No, it's not," I promised her and she nodded slowly, the worry and shame disappearing from her eyes as well. All I could see in them was wonder and joy and amazement. The exact same things I felt.

"We'll be alright, won't we?"

"Yeah," I murmured. "I think we will."


End file.
